


A chaotic love

by Jaspergirl (old_fashioned_gal)



Series: Chaotic Love [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bickering, Canon Relationships, Chaos, Established Relationship, M/M, Magic, My First Work in This Fandom, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rewrite, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03, not compliant with comics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-03-20 23:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 60
Words: 149,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13727895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/old_fashioned_gal/pseuds/Jaspergirl
Summary: When Giles returns to the watcher's council, he brings Ethan with him.





	1. 1979

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and am making no profit from this (unless you count fun).

These days, Albert Giles takes his elevenses alone, Margo having moved in with her sister some time ago. They had tried to make a go of it, but the estrangement from Rupert puts too great a strain on the marriage. Separated, they can each try to navigate their new, childless life in their own ways and time.

And they have had time now. Rupert has been gone almost four years. Albert had feared him dead until the Council traced him living with a dark coven in some squalid London flat, sporting an earring of all things. Odd, but it was the earring that disturbed Albert more than anything else. Dangling brazenly from his son’s earlobe as they had their last fight, a visual opposite of the propriety and respect Albert has always tried to instil in the boy. Of course, Rupert refused to come home.

Albert sets the tea tray down in a space on his desk. Little point in retiring to the living room these days. And, quite aside from all her other wonderful qualities, no Margo means no cake. Albert’s own attempts to bake one in the early days of his second bachelorhood were not encouraging. He sighs deeply and lifts his teacup.

The doorbell rings. Albert frowns, sighs again and puts his tea back down. Another of Margo’s wonderful qualities: intrepid threshold guarding, ensuring he never had to deal with tradespeople or signing for parcels. In her absence, Albert has to leave his tea and go to open the door.

Rupert is standing on the doorstep. Albert blinks. Adjusts his glasses. Looks again. Yes, it’s Rupert. Albert almost hugs him, the aborted impulse resulting in an odd little shifting of his shoulders and a peculiar straggled noise. “Rupert”

“Father” Rupert looks exhausted and far too thin. Remembering his manners, Albert steps aside, “Won’t you…um” How can he invite Rupert in to his own home?

And it’s daylight, of course, or invitations might be best avoided. Rupert is that pale.

Rupert nods an understanding at his father’s confusion and moves to step inside, pausing in the doorway to say, “You remember Ethan?” A second, previously unnoticed young man is indicated. If possible, he is even thinner and paler than Rupert, though in place of exhaustion there is a nervous – and possibly chemically-enhanced – energy about him. He stands a little way off, arms crossed. At Rupert’s nod he follows them inside.

*****

Of course Albert remembers Rayne. Given the boy is the only member of Rupert’s coven he met when attempting to retrieve his son, Albert has perhaps attached an unfair share of the blame to the young sorcerer. But not too unfair a share. Albert is a man of the world, and he had quickly been wise to the fact that Rupert was in that hideous place more from Rayne’s influence than that of the others. Unless certain rumours – and Albert can’t face those – are true, Rayne is the only coven member with whom Rupert is intimate. It really has been hard to face the rest of the council, knowing that. For his son – for a Giles! – to be one of…them, well it’s almost unthinkable. Albert would take pleasure in how far apart they’re sitting, were it not for how unhappy Rupert looks.

The truth is, for all he’s been told about…them, Albert can’t see the harm in it. As long as they don’t touch each other in front of him, of course.

He wants Rupert to be happy. And Rupert looks far from happy right now.

So. First things first. “I’ll make tea” Albert tells them and they both look at him like he’s offering them eternal salvation. Albert adds, “I don’t have cake, I’m afraid.” And then he realises his mistake: _I_ not _we_. Immediately, Rupert asks, “Where’s mum?”

“Staying with Auntie Amelia” Albert replies, without adding _permanently_.

Of course, he has to retrieve the teapot from his study, which must look very strange to Rupert. As though he’s let things slide in Margo’s absence, Albert thinks, before remembering the state of that London flat. It’s no wonder Rupert and Rayne both look a little grubby. Watching them inhale their tea, Albert notes the holes in their clothing, their general greasy air, and, beneath where the earring had been dangling from Rupert’s ear, a spot that looks suspiciously like…

Good God.

The phone rings. Albert stands. “I’ll see to that.” As he heads into the study, he doesn’t miss the way Rupert and Rayne look at each other quickly like children caught out in a lie.

It’s Quentin Travers on the phone, and Albert feels the slight, that they’d let this little upstart give him the news.

He says very little as the report is conveyed, but he finds his hand straying to the framed photograph of his slayer. Wonderful Arleen, who spent her short life battling demons like the one his son summoned apparently for no better reason than fun. Traces of dark magic all over the scene, Travers tells him. A young man dead, the coven apparently scattered and generally a big mess for the Council to clean up. It seems that the demon was at least successfully banished, though further purifying rituals will be done. The Council will see that the case bypasses the ordinary police, though not, Albert suspects, for Rupert’s sake: this is simply a matter of protocol. Some of what was found at that flat is too dangerous for the public sphere.

Albert sets the phone down feeling older than he did when he picked it up. Returning to the living room, he tells Rupert, “That was Mr Travers.”

Rupert’s jaw works for a moment. Then he says, “This wasn’t Ethan’s fault” at the same moment that Rayne says, “It wasn’t Ripper’s fault.” They look at each other for a tense moment before Rupert says, “Don’t call me that.”

“I’m just trying to –”

“Ethan, don’t –”

Albert clears his throat. “That’s enough of that. Rupert, show Mr Rayne to the guestroom and then report to my study. I want a word.”

*****

Being home again is surreal. The place is precisely as Rupert remembers it, a little like stepping straight into his own memory rather than returning to a physical place. The same towels in the guestroom loo, the same Pears soap in the same bone china soap dish. Rupert wets his face before the interview with his father and freezes as he examines himself in the mirror: below his ear is the tiniest speck of blood. He scrubs it away, frantically. God, it’s been over a day – is he ever going to be rid of the stuff?

It’s not like in films, tomato red and neatly flowing in ribbons. It’s watery, metallic-tasting and it hits the ceiling when a major artery is severed. Coats you, heavy and warm through your clothes. Turns your hair orange, sticks in the lines in your skin. Foams in black/red pools, pink at the edges, drips from every surface the spray hit…Recognising a now familiar jolt, Rupert drops to his knees by the toilet and vomits up his tea.

The door opens behind him. “Ripper?”  

Rupert spits and flushes. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Sorry. Habit.” Ethan leans in the doorway, watching him re-wash his face. Rupert tells him, “It was a mistake to come here. And I still think you’d have been better off where we were.” In the mirror, he sees the pain in Ethan’s expression and his own guilt answers it. There is a gap in his memory between Randall’s – Randall’s _head_ – between Randall dead and… and the next thing Rupert knows for sure is they were in a B and B room. Both of them, together – Ethan had presumably used magic to hide the blood and the fact they are both men – and Ethan had his arms around him, telling him everything was going to be okay. Rupert hadn’t believed him, so when Ethan left to try to phone the others – they had all scattered, everything was ruined – Rupert had grabbed the few possessions Ethan had apparently brought with them – his coat, a few books, his guitar, thank God, and what did it say about him that he had room to care about that, or to think he still had any right to thank God for anything?

It was only luck that had Ethan return in time to find Rupert packing. His hysteria had made it impossible for Rupert to leave without him.

Just luck that Rupert wasn’t here alone, and luck doesn’t always mean good luck.

In the mirror, Rupert watches Ethan force down the pain and reply, “You think I’d be better off homeless and alone in London?”

“You wouldn’t be homeless long. Or alone long, knowing you.”

“Maybe you don’t know me, if that’s what you think.”

Rupert shrugs. Really, he’s fairly sure Ethan would get on the rebound pretty quickly. Call up one of the beautiful people he’s initiated ritual orgies with in the past, bed hop for a bit, move on. Build a new life without Rupert’s taint. Instead he’s still shackled to a murderer. Painful as it is to say out loud, Rupert forces himself to say, “I’m hardly your only option.”

Ethan folds his arms. “Keep trying, go on. I’m not going to leave, if that’s what you’re hoping.”

“It’s not hope.” Rupert turns slowly and leans back against the sink. “It’s what’s best for you.”

“And here I was under the impression that’s for me to decide.”

Why he’s decided following Rupert back here is best for him, Rupert can’t phantom. Nor can he find it in himself to argue further. Part of him is so grateful that Ethan is still here that he holds back. Selfish, he tells himself, truly selfish.

Selfish to be here at all, really. Selfish not to end his life after ending Randall’s. Selfish to let Ethan drag him to that grotty B and B. Selfish to drag Ethan from London. “We should have gone back to the flat” he tells Ethan. “Dealt with things. The Council will have done that for us now and God knows…” God knows what they’ve done with Randall’s body. Will he even get a grave? Let alone a marked one. Rupert sinks to his knees again, more out of general horror than nausea this time. Ethan kneels besides him, grounding hand at his shoulder. “Look, Rip… _Rupert_. We’re here now. So let’s focus on us, alright? There’s no point more lives being ruined.”

Ethan is selfish too, Rupert allows himself to note. Perhaps everyone is, deep down.

Randall never struck him as selfish, not once. Wild, naïve, occasionally petulant, yes, but not selfish. Is that why Eyghon had chosen him? Or was it pure opportunism?

Rupert stands up and wipes his face again, checks himself in the mirror. Killing himself now, now that they are here, now that his father is offering…well, whatever punishment the council deems the situation demands, it would be a further act of selfishness. Or perhaps just thinking that is selfish too.

Perhaps he should leave: turn left instead of right when he goes downstairs and head out the door. Selfish to leave his father to deal with the scandal, and the inevitable taint it will leave on his own career, but then, possibly it would be worse to stay. Perhaps the situation will blow over quicker, from his father’s point of view, if he leaves now. From his point of view, it will never be over. He understands that much. Part of him will always be in that room, swinging that sword.

But if he leaves, what about Ethan? It’s one thing to leave him in London where he knows people, another to leave him here with no bus fare and the council probably aware by now of his role in the whole thing. Perhaps he could take Ethan with him. But with him where? And even if he does, how can they possibly make this work? Much as Rupert loves Ethan, he doubts he’ll ever see anything but Eyghon when he looks at him ever again.

Facing Ethan again, Rupert says, “You must know my father isn’t exactly approving of us.”

Ethan shrugs. Ethan seems to view the concept of parental approval in the same way other people view alien life: maybe it’s out there somewhere or maybe not and there’s no way of knowing either way. Rupert adds, “And he won’t tolerate chaos magic in his house.”

“I can go down the garden or something.”

“Ethan, this isn’t the same as sneaking out for a smoke. Janus is everything the Council despises.”

“Well, we’re not staying with the council. We’re staying with your old dad.”

“It’s, it’s practically the same thing.” Frustrated at his school days’ stammer making an appearance yet again – it’s more or less full-fledged again since Eyghon – Rupert heads out the door, shaking off Ethan’s attempt to waylay him. “I’d better go, or he’ll think we’re having at it.” At Ethan’s grin he adds, “Oh grow up, Ethan. You’d better, being here.”

*****

Ripper stays cloistered with his dad for the rest of the day. Sneaking a listen at the door once or twice, Ethan is aware that a few tense phone calls are made as well as the father-son heart to hearts. No raised voices, of course, not in Ripper’s house. Makes sense.

Rupert. Not Ripper. Got to watch that.

Eventually, Ethan raids the pantry before going to bed. They’ve barely eaten or slept since it happened, stunned out of self-preservation by their encounter with violent hell. The one time Ethan did sleep, on the train here, was shallow and fitful, and he started awake once he realised he was dreaming, and not about Randall, as if he’d already forgotten, to find Rupert sitting across from him, wakeful and solemn in a way that made Ethan feel guilty.

Well, guilty or not, here he still is. Ethan finds a safety pin in a bowl in Ripper – Rupert’s – hallway and uses it on his palms for an adulation. Janus will understand why it’s late, of course, because understanding is what gods do. Understanding and occasionally intervening, the latter of which would really have been appreciated when Randall’s eyes glowed green. Appreciated but apparently not to be, and Ethan quashes a budding bitterness about that; he is not the first person to wonder why a deity didn’t have his back. Unless he did, of course. After all, he is alive, and so is Rupert and it could so easily not have worked out like that. A lingering and heartfelt adulation then, for gratitude, and then Ethan clambers into the cold guest bed, still in his jeans and t-shirt. Tries for an undisturbed sleep at last.

He is woken hours later by Rupert shaking him gently. “Eth?”

Ethan regards him blearily. “Time to go?” Damn. The old man could at least have let them stay the night. They’re in the middle of bloody nowhere.

“No. They, err, they let…Here, move over, can’t you?”

Ethan shifts and Rupert climbs in under the covers. Whispering, he explains the situation: he’s to report to a council tribunal in three days’ time and, if all goes well, and he passes some tests to ensure no forbidden magic lingers, they’ll find him a low-level, highly supervised position.

Ethan is very glad it’s too dark for Rip – Rupert – to see his expression. Honestly, he was assuming they’d be out of here in a few days. Let Rupert get the yearning for the comfort of home out his system and head back to London. Or maybe to Manchester. Hell, maybe New York. Let his lover see how little there is to console him here and he’d be all Ethan’s again. Not this. “Where the hell does this leave me?” he manages.

Rupert sighs – Ethan feels it against his cheek – and wraps an arm around him. The first time he’s initiated anything resembling a cuddle since Eyghon. Ethan finds himself burrowing into the embrace. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Oh, Ethan. I’ve been a bastard, haven’t I?”

“Not really” Yes, really, but anyone would be after what Rupert had to do. Really, Ethan’s just grateful his lover can function. Five hours had passed, after all, between the swing of the sword and Rupert finally saying something. Five hours. Six before anything he said made sense.

Wrapped in Rupert’s arms, with Rupert possibly still wanting him, with Rupert stringing together entire sentences and apparently able to make plans, the overwhelming temptation is to just go along with said plans. So Ethan says, “I suppose I could just ignore the council. If they ignore me.”

“I’m not, I’m not sure –”

“Not sure what?” Ethan jolts up, as does the pitch of his voice. “Ripper, what’re you saying?” Heart rate picks up. Not this again. This You’re-Better-Off-Without-Me crap is really starting to scare Ethan. If he’d been just ten minutes later back to the B and B, if Rupert had already packed and left…Ethan shudders. “Are you breaking up with me?” Gods, his voice is almost a squeak now – he’d break up with him sounding like that so no-one could blame Rupert if he does too.

But Rupert is sitting up beside him, enfolding him again in strong arms. “No. No, Eth. But…”

“But what?” and there’s bite to his voice now, hardness. Because this dithering is just cruel.

“You don’t want this life. You’d be happier if you go back to London and –”

“Not without you.”

“Ethan, you realise n-no-one in the Council will…They, they’ll all be scandalised by you.”

“Good”

“And they, they won’t accept us. No-one will treat us like a couple.”

“At least we’ll still be one”

“Is that really how you want to live? In the face of constant disapproval?”

“Constant disapproval? As opposed to the warm and accepting response of the average London copper?”

“This is worse. The Council…Ethan, they, they have power you can’t imagine.”

“What I can’t imagine is life without you.” Ethan insists, and he feels Rupert tense in the darkness. Rupert’s next question more or less breaks his heart: “ _Why_?”

Ethan hugs him hard. Where to start? “Because you’re Rupert” he replies, remembering to use his lover’s real name easily when it’s this crucial. When Rupert doesn’t speak, he continues, “Because you sing like an angel and fight like a hell-born marauder and no-one gets me off like you do. Oh, and there is the little matter of my being madly in love with you.”

Rupert exhales the faintest chuckle against his skin. It’s small but it’s there, the first hint that some humour survived. “I don’t deserve you Ethan.”

“And I don’t deserve you either.”

“Damn right. You don’t deserve a life hiding your interests and coupled to someone who has to constantly put duty first.”

Ethan pulls away to face him properly, even though it’s dark. “What if that’s the life I want?”

For an extended moment, there is silence. Finally, Rupert replies, “Then I’m sure it can be arranged.”

Ethan allows himself to relax. Lies back down, and wraps his arms around Rupert when he lies down too. “That’s that then” Ethan tells him. “No going back on it in the morning.”

“No. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make myself warn you off again.”

“Glad to hear it. And if I kiss you in front of your old man tomorrow, do you think he’ll chuck me out?”

“Shouldn’t think so. Though he might have a stroke.”

“And the council won’t arrest me or whatever it is they do?”

“No” Rupert responds. “Especially if you keep the chaos magic, well, um, subtle.” Then he sighs again. “Or invisible.”

“Well there’s a lot of fun to be had with invisibility spells.”

“This isn’t a joke, Ethan. There’ll almost definitely be questions about the chaos magic at the tribunal.”

“ _Your_ Chaos magic. Will you actually give it up? Or just tell them you will?”

“I act, actually will.” A firmness underlays the stammer. Ethan rolls his eyes, though only because Rupert can’t see it. “Rupert, what happened…” Damn it, but he can’t even say it. He can’t say _what happened with Eyghon_ or _what happened to Randall._ He can’t even say _Randall_ out loud. The name is sacred now, out of reach to the likes of him. Ethan forces himself to say, “It didn’t all go to hell because of Chaos magic. Summoning is something else entirely, you know that.”

“I know. But if…as…as you, you’re um, staying. They’ll want to know what you’ll be getting up to. While you’re staying. For as, for as long as you’re um. In my life.”

Forever then. Ethan reflects that if he wasn’t so in love with the git lying beside him, he might regret committing to a lifetime lived by his rules. But just the thought of returning to London sans-Ripper is unbearable.

Still. Ground rules. “I’m not going to change Gods, love. They’re not like underwear, you know. You don’t choose the right God for the occasion and take a spare when you go camping.”

“I know. But, but just be a-aware. They might want you to r-register as a practising warlock with them and, and agree to certain terms.”

“Terms?”

“Well, they’ll probably want you to join the Council for a start.”

Later, Ethan will swear he didn’t mean to laugh. When he manages to stop, he asks, “Is this before or after the magic required to give pigs wings?”

“I, I said “want”, Ethan, not “insist”. If you refuse, then other terms will be discussed.”

This is feeling more and more like an audition for role of Rupert Giles’ Council Approved Lover. Which is madness when one considers that the council still calls their love sodomy. They’ll never actually approve: that’s not the point. The point, Ethan understands, is to choose one of three options: leave Rupert (Not going to happen), stay and refuse to follow their rules and proceed to be framed for Randall’s murder and sentenced to life imprisonment by an unaccountable secret society (He’ll pass, thanks), or stay and live by their rules. Ethan stifles a groan in the pillow. “Fine. Tell me about these ‘terms’”.

“I, I don’t know the details yet. I need to get through the tribunal first. It, it might not be much more than what they ask of all registered practitioners, and that’s not too bad.”

“Oh?”

“The main thing will be not to kill anyone with magic, which…”

“Which let’s not anyway.” There is a pause then, a grim and jaded _again_ that goes unsaid. Ethan powers on with, “Agreed. What else?”

“You’ll be forbidden from mentioning chaos worship to Council members I expect. Actually I, I doubt you’ll be invited any Council events, so –”

“– Oh no! Not invited to council events? However will I cope with the disappointment?” In the darkness, he can sense Rupert’s answering glare, and grins.

“Ethan.”

“Sorry” The grin stays in place.

“Let me just focus on the tribunal, alright? In the meantime, just don’t mention Janus to any council members who come to the house. Or c-curse them. Keep the magic, um…”

“Benevolent?”

Even in the dark he can sense Rupert’s incredulous expression. Rupert tells him, “Nothing too awful. No curses. No hexes. Nothing dangerous or world altering.”

Ethan is a little pleased that Rupert thinks he’s capable of anything world altering.

They lie together in restful silence for a moment before Rupert asks, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“What, stay?”

“Yes. Because if not, then, then I’d, I’d rather know now. Because I can’t…I, I almost lost you, Ethan.”

“Worked that out, did you?” Ethan’s anger flares up without knocking first, as is its wont. Because sod it – he’s said he’ll stay, hasn’t he? Not to mention all this affection when just this morning, “I thought you were pissed off I survived.”

“Oh, that’s not fair! Ethan, you know…” Rupert trails off with an exhausted sigh. Let’s his face rest briefly against Ethan’s neck. “All I know is, if I stay here – if _we_ stay here – I can redeem myself. Because it’s all my fault, Eth.”

Ethan shakes his head and then remembers Rupert can’t see it in the dark. Instead he runs a soothing hand over Rupert’s strong shoulders. “No. That’s not true at all, love. We all knew what we were getting into.” Rupert doesn’t believe him, of course. But Ethan will keep saying it. As many times as he has to.


	2. 1997

“I’ve, err, I’ve been offered a promotion. Of sorts.”

Ethan frowns into his wine glass. “Damn. I knew there’d be a catch.” Rupert never takes him out to dinner without having bad news of some sort to impart. It’s always, _Sorry, but we do have to spend Christmas with my parents_ , or _The Council have told me to put an end to your dealings with the Infernal Brethren of Azazel_. Always something unreasonable like that. Taking a steeling sip of the wine, Ethan prompts, “Well?”

“Yes. I’ve, um, I’ve been asked to watch a slayer. An actual slayer.” The brief smile that lights Rupert’s face betrays how keen he is, though he quickly switches his expression to neutral, waiting to hear what Ethan has to say. Ethan asks, “How old is she?” Ten upwards would be alright but he doesn’t want some insufferable little brat running round the house. Rupert blinks. “Sixteen” he replies, “But I don’t mean a potential. I mean the _actual_ slayer, Ethan. The active slayer.”

Ethan stares at him for a moment. “Oh”

“Yes. It’s, it’s quite an honour.”

And not one Rupert expected, Ethan knows. Not with him in tow. “Yes. I suppose it is.”

“What do you think?”

What Ethan thinks is that the sodding council is trying to appear to be rewarding Rupert for his years of service while actually screwing him over. This slayer didn’t even know vampires existed until she was called. She’s had no training or preparation of any kind and everyone expects her to be dead within the year. There’s even a pool on at the local demon bar over when it’ll be. Ethan has the 20th of June. “I think…Rupert, I think it’ll break your heart.”

Rupert is crestfallen. “I am aware this girl has…something of a sealed fate. But I hope that before that happens I can be useful to her. And all of us.” He takes a sip of his own wine. “Would you come with me? To California, I mean.”

“To the hellmouth, you really mean” says Ethan, and Rupert nods.

A little – just a little – scared of the answer, Ethan asks, “What if I say no?”

“Well then, that’s end of the matter, obviously. I can’t go without you.”

“You can’t?” Pathetic that he’s so elated by it. It’s not like they haven’t been together twenty plus years. But still a little squirming part of him worries that Rupert would put the council first. It wouldn’t be the first time: their lives together have been a chaos of ever-warring duty and love, and this is a new situation entirely.

“Of course not” Rupert tells him. “I am rather in love with you, you know.”

Ethan smiles a small, happy smile which he quickly hides in his drink.

“What do you think?” Rupert asks again.

Ethan does a quick calculation in his head: In the plus column, if he agrees, he’s making Rupert happy. Temporarily. He gets to see the hellmouth – an underworld-famous centre of mystical convergence – and a few years living in California never hurt anyone’s complexion. On the minus side, if they go to the hellmouth, they’ll be in danger every day, Rupert will be inconsolable when his inexperienced slayer falls on her stake and in the meantime, they’re on the other side of the planet from their friends. Well, and the council – add that to the pluses.

Really though, if he says no, he’ll be asking Rupert to sacrifice a now virtually lifelong dream. Ethan sighs. Says, “I suppose I’d be able to look back and say I saw the hellmouth.”

Rupert beams. “That’s a yes?”

“A grudging yes.”

The smile widens. “Excellent.”

“Just tell me you won’t be expected to wear tweed in California. That really would be the end.”

 


	3. Welcome to the Hellmouth

“Well” Ethan puts down the chair he’s carried in and sits in it. “At least there’s a fireplace.”

“Not much use in California” Giles looks around at the new apartment.

“It’s supposed to get cold at night” Ethan tells him.

“Cold by the standards of someone used to California’s daytime temperatures.”

“Or possibly genuinely cold. Possibly we’ll have to camp out in front of the fire, cuddling naked under a blanket together to conserve body heat.”

“Possibly the chances of that actually happening are dependent on you helping me carry things in.”

Ethan pulls a face that implies naked cuddling isn’t worth carrying furniture in California’s daytime temperatures. Seeing Giles’ stern expression he adds, “You just want to get unpacked quickly so you can go running off to meet your slayer. You don’t actually want me to earn naked cuddling and give you a reason to stay here.”

“Ethan, the school term hasn’t even started yet. At least save your inevitable jealousy for when I’m actually going to meet her.”

“I am not jealous of a sixteen-year-old, Rupert.”

“Good”

“Especially one with a stupid name.”

*****

“So? What’s she like?”

“She’s err. Well, she’s a teenage girl.”

“Heavens”

“I should have realised when the Council asked me to come here that I don’t actually know how to talk to teenage girls.”

“Well, try assuming she’s just like you but stronger, younger, with no taste in music – one assumes – and different anatomy.”

“And no interest in her sacred destiny.”

“There, see. You’ve been there.”  Ethan straightens up from the box of books he’s halfway through unpacking and stretches, picks himself up to join Giles on the sofa. “How about the school? Still dull?”

“None of the students seem to use the library!”

“Isn’t that a good thing, if that’s where you’ll be training the girl?”

“Assuming she ever submits to being trained. But still, you’d think more than one of them would read.”

“So one does?”

“A young lady named Willow. Now, if _she_ were the slayer…” Giles sighs and shakes his head. “But she’s not. And I have a feeling the actual slayer will be at the local dive tonight. I might head over there. See if she’s more open to reason in a different setting.”

“You’re going to disturb the slayer on a night out? Good luck with that.”

“I have to try. There’s no time to lose, on a hellmouth.”


	4. The Harvest

“I knew she wasn’t going to be like the potentials” Giles admits to Ethan after returning from the first of what he knows will be many battles with vampires.  “But I suppose I hoped she’d have at least some sense of duty.” He had, somewhat ironically, been underestimating the impact of the revelation of her destiny. Now he sees how utterly Buffy’s life has been transformed by her calling, and he feels desperately sorry for her. And even more desperate get her to focus on the little matter of defending the world.

Ethan paces their new kitchen. He appears to be trying to unpack the new utensils hastily picked out at the mall earlier and cook something overly ambitious at the same time. He replies, “Well the potentials have their liberated moments too.”

“They do when you’re around.” At the few Council events Giles has managed to get Ethan invited to, his partner has outraged the watchers but bonded surprisingly well with some of the slayers in waiting. In his less charitable moments, Giles reasons that, beneath the rigid training, the potentials are teenage girls after all, and therefore have a similar level of emotional maturity to a certain chaos mage. Ethan adds, “You’d be bored if she was too dutiful. You wouldn’t want some poor Sofia.”

“Sofia has been with her watcher since she was three. I was thinking more along the lines of Nora.” Nora was identified aged ten, and has ended up with a healthy-seeming balance of a sense of duty and a mind of her own.

“Give it time.”

“Sorry” Giles tries to push his thoughts aside. “I haven’t asked how your day was. Did you explore much of the town?”

“I explored all of the town.” Ethan glances up with a scowl. “There’s not much of this place. And nothing to do.”

“Give it time.”


	5. Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two lines of this chapter are taken from BtVS season 1 episode 3, Witch, written by Dana Reston.

“Why should someone want to harm Cordelia?”

“Maybe because they met her?”

“I say” An impressed voice sounds from the library doorway. “You must be Willow. Rupert didn’t tell me your talents stretch to delightfully vicious one-liners.”

Everyone looks questioningly at Giles, who sighs heavily and tells them, “Children, this is my fiancé, Ethan”

“Dear me, Rupert, do try not to sound so overexcited about it.”

“Fiancé?” Xander glances between the two older men. Ethan crosses the space to the table and sits down. “Yes, we’re waiting until after the revolution.”

“We’re waiting until gay marriage is legalised” Giles clarifies. He picks up a book from the table, not looking at them.

“Congratulations” Willow says and Ethan grins at her. Buffy’s eyebrows are somewhere in her hairline and a smile quirks her lips. “Woah, Giles, you dark horse: You didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t ask”

“Obviously they didn’t. Rupert, these children think you just fold yourself up into a neat tweedy pile in the library cupboard after they go home every day.”

“I know I thought that” agrees Xander.

“Well” tries Buffy, “I don’t know about the tweed pile thing but I actually didn’t know watchers even could have partners and families and stuff. I just thought you guys were like monks.”

“And for nine out of ten watchers, that is indeed the case. Rupert’s lucky I found him when I did.”

“Yes, thank you Ethan for rescuing me from a life of sequestered study. Now can we get back to the matter in hand?”

Willow tells Ethan, “Someone’s cursing the cheerleaders” and then asks Giles, “I can tell him that can’t I?”

“Yes. Ethan is, in fact, something of an expert on witchcraft, which is why I called him.”

“No pun intended” Ethan supplies. Giles glares.

“So you’re a witch hunter?” Xander asks.

“Well I was, but then I met Rupert.” At the children’s blank stares, Ethan rolls his eyes and clarifies, “I’m a warlock. Or sorcerer, or mage, if you prefer. We go by many names.”

“Just don’t call him a wizard” Giles adds. “He’ll sulk for a week and I’ve got to live with him.”

“You can do magic?” Willow pipes up. “That must be fun.”

“Yeah” says Buffy, “It’s all fun and games until someone kills Cordelia. Can you help us find whoever’s doing this?”

Ethan straightens in his chair and does an only-half-mocking imitation of a gentlemanly bow. Buffy smiles. It’s a start, Giles supposes.

 


	6. Teacher's Pet

Arriving early to meet Rupert for lunch, Ethan decides to head into the school and promptly gets lost. Despite the depressingly long time since he’s been in one, it turns out schools are still a complex labyrinth of inconveniently similar looking hallways. Ethan stops in the doorway of an occupied classroom to ask a teacher in a lab coat, “Sorry to disturb; which way to the library?”

The man looks up from his desk. Ethan wonders if he teaches Rupert’s little band and if recent revelations of the supernatural have turned them off science. “You’ve taken a wrong turn” the man informs him with a smile. “It’s back the way you came and then turn left at the –” He pauses as Ethan stares past him, at the door behind them which is silently opening without any apparent human cause. “Are you –” the teacher begins and then the door swings on its hinges and Ethan leaps back with a shriek at the thing that emerges from it. A similar sound escapes the science teacher as he turns to see an alien form hanging over him. “Good lord!” he gasps and it is perhaps that – that little Rupert-like comment – that has Ethan risk attack to step towards him and the horror looming over him to reach for the man and tug on his arm. Then they both run. Mercifully, the corridors are empty – no crowd to get caught in, no-one to panic and knock them over – and they are able to quickly put some distance between them and whatever it is that crawled from the cupboard. The Whatever It Is apparently gives chase – crashing sounds behind them and it’s closing the distance. “Library?” Ethan shouts above it.

“This way!” comes the yelped reply.

Racing through the library doors, they are met by Rupert who jumps to his feet with the reflexes of a man used to being disturbed by demons. “What is it?” he asks, beckoning them both into his office and barricading the door with his desk. Through frosted glass they can see the thing hover; green and top heavy with pinchers.

“It’s a praying mantis!” squeaks the teacher. “I could swear it! But is has to be six foot tall!”

“At least” replies Giles, as the thing turns its attention to the rest of the library, knocking over a table as if to demonstrate how huge it is. Instinctively, Ethan closes a hand round Rupert’s wrist. “You can’t go out there, Rupert.”

“But” Rupert glances at the thing which appears to be scenting the air, “I could get to my weapons while it’s distra –” he is cut off by the thing charging into the door, which strains ominously. Scrambling on to the desk to lean his weight against it, Rupert commands, “Ethan, we need a barrier!”

“A barrier?” The teacher looks around the small office, pushing a chair against the physical barrier Rupert has created.

Rupert stares through the glass. “Trap it in the library – we can’t let it get to the children”

Ethan plucks a chalk from his pocket – never without one – and kneels to draw a hasty sacred circle. Then pauses. “Wait” he says, “if it’s an actual mantis, I might be able to go one better.”

“Oh?” Rupert grimaces as the door rattles again. “Whatever it is, hurry up about it, will you? Unless I can reach the weapons –”

“Shall I phone 911?” the teacher asks.

Rupert shakes his head. “They’re not equipped to handle something like this.” Rupert shifts position, the better to brace himself against the door. A strange clicking sounds beyond it. Doing his best to ignore it, Ethan finishes the sacred circle.

“Um. Pest control then?” The teacher asks. “I don’t know their number but we could email reception. Do you have a computer in here?”

“I’m afraid it’s –” Rupert swears as a particularly loud crash sounds behind him “being smashed up by monster, apparently. Ethan?”

Getting back to his feet, Ethan stares around at the magic books and artefacts on the shelves. “It’s possible, yes?” he asks. “A giant insect?”

“I don’t know, Ethan but –” The door shudders again “– but perhaps what Carlisle –” Another crash “ – look, hurry would you? I’m surprised it hasn’t had the glass in already.”

Shrinking spells don’t work on demons, more’s the pity, but they work on most animals. Used to be used to create oddities for travelling fairs: dinky little lions, miniature miniature poodles and so on. Just occasionally, or so the rumour goes, tiny humans, possibly the inspiration for the borrowers. And the spell doesn’t require preparation so long as one has… “Ah. This’ll do” A large meditation crystal makes a good enough vessel at short notice, if one knows what one’s doing. Ethan grabs it, kneels again, and, with an inner surge of magic, tunes out everything. Goes to the dark and crackling place in his mind where Janus waits. A quick appeal, a gathering of stored magic and then he puts everything into the crystal, lets it twist into just the right energy – and shoots it forward, through Rupert, through the door and straight into the creature’s green abdomen. There’s a squeal and then –

It's suddenly quiet outside, and the apparition at the door is gone. Rupert meets his eyes for a moment, before clambering down from the desk and pulling open the door. An insect, not unlike a body building stick insect, falls against his shoe.

“Ah” the science exclaims. “It err…Well. It, it…That seems to have...” His gaze wanders the destruction in the library. “I don’t suppose either of you could tell me what’s going on?”

*****

What’s going on is only fully understood when Rupert makes a call to the institution his first year flatmate now calls home. Between Carlisle’s ramblings, Rupert’s educated guesses and a little bookwork, they soon have a backstory for the insect in the jar on the library table. 

“If she’s a shapeshifter” asks Ethan, “why didn’t she shift back?”

“She’s not a conventional shapeshifter” Rupert replies. “It wasn’t entirely in her control once certain biological circumstances were in place.”

“Once she was ready to mate” Dr Gregory nods, peering into the container. “Fascinating.”

“Impractical more like” Ethan counters. “We’d have been more inclined to mate if she was human.” At Rupert’s expression he adds, “Or at least the single among us would.”

“She wouldn’t want you anyway, Ethan; she was after virgins. Something you are aggressively not.”

“Then why’d she even leave the cupboard for me and…oh.” Ethan’s eyebrows rise of their own accord. Rupert glances awkwardly from him to mantis to science teacher.

“Well yes” says Dr Gregory with a smile. “I’ve always been squarely in Kinsey’s Group X. It’s just never appealed. More time for lesson prep aside from anything else.” He stands. “Which I really should get back to.” His gaze returns to the jar. “I don’t suppose you’d let me keep this?”

“Go ahead.” Rupert nods. “Just give her a nice cage, could you? I’m rather grateful she relieved me of that computer.”

*****

“He took that well.” Ethan says, once they are safely home.

“Rather too well. I hope he’s not in shock.”

Ethan shrugs. “He’ll come round.”

“He’ll have questions.” Giles sighs. So far, he’s doing a dreadful job of maintaining a secret identity.

“Possibly” Ethan replies. “Or he might turn out to be as good at denial as the rest of this town.”

“Unlikely. He got a pretty good look at it from what you said.” Giles smiles at his partner. “You saved his life, you know.”

Ethan shifts self-consciously in his chair. “He reminded me of you.” More shifting. “All I did was grab his arm.”

“When you could have just run. It was brave.”

“Well, don’t expect me to make a habit of it.” Ethan frowns. “Maybe we should set him up with someone? Dangerous place to be a virgin, this town.”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as that, Ethan.”

Ethan shrugs again. “Perhaps. It takes all sorts after all.”

“It does indeed.”

“I don’t suppose you could accidently stab him?”

“What?”

“Well, virgin blood’s worth –”

“Ethan!”

“I didn’t say deeply!”

Rupert shakes his head and changes the subject. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Pretty good.” Ethan leans back in his chair. “Not praying mantis good but good enough.” At Giles’ questioning glance, he adds, “I found the local demon bar. Run by a human actually. Or human as far as I could tell. It’d be rude to ask.”

Internally, Giles rolls his eyes. He should have been clear about this from the start. “Ethan, this is a hellmouth town. You can’t start socialising with the demons.” Back home, it was one thing. Several of Ethan’s customers in London were balancing demons, refugees from demon dimensions, halflings. A few were worse, though Ethan would always pass on any useful information that came his way about them. But in Sunnydale… “The supernatural creatures here are drawn by the energy of the hellmouth. We’re not talking anything neutral or benevolent.”

“And we’re not talking about the council just leaving you to get on with the job, are we?” Ethan shoots back.

Giles replies, “Obviously I’ll be under closer scrutiny than before. I am mentoring the chosen one. But there is also the small matter of these creatures being terribly dangerous.”

“So you telling me what I can do is only partly wanting to please the council? Wonderful.”

“Well, do you want to spend your time here drinking with monsters?”

“Look, I only said I’d found the place. I didn’t say it was my Favourite Place in all of Sunnydale.” Ethan folds his arms. “Though what does get that title I haven’t decided. The mall or the far livelier cemeteries?”

Giles sighs. Ethan was inevitably going to miss London but he’d hoped it would take longer than this. He tries to jolly his partner along with, “At least there’s a beach.”

“I suppose.”

“You can’t tell me you’re bored of the beach already. I’d have thought endlessly sunning yourself with a good book would be your idea of paradise.”

“Well even paradise gets boring when you’re on your own all day.” Ethan scowls at him. “Maybe you could quit the cover story now that Buffy’s met you? Come and sun yourself with me.”

“I need to be available to her throughout the day, Ethan.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll just have to keep looking for alternative company. There must be someone interesting in this town.”

“Just as long as you don’t meet them in a demon bar.” Giles sips his tea for a moment, turning Ethan-entertaining ideas over in his mind. “Buffy’s mother is opening a gallery. That might be somewhere to meet likeminded people.” He puts just the slightest stress on the word people.

“Possibly.”

“I do mean it about the demon bar, you know. Yes, the Council will be keeping an eye on us, but more importantly I’d worry if you start to rub shoulders with things that could eat you. People disappear on a regular basis here and I’d quite like to bring you back with me when I eventually return to London.”

“Don’t worry about me, Rupert. I can take care of myself. I’ve just proven myself remarkably good at running away, after all.”

Giles doesn’t find this particularly reassuring.


	7. Never Kill a Boy on the First Date

“What are you doing here?” Rupert stares up at him through a grating in a sunken part of the morgue.  

“I got your message” Ethan gasps at him. “You think I’d let you search a funeral home by yourself in this town?” He’s practically run all the way here and is too out of breath to hide being out of breath.

“Get out of here – there are vampires in the building!”

“I know.” Ethan crouches on the grass and pulls a few things from his pockets, lays them out in front of him. “I ran into Willow and Xander on the way in” They’d filled him in on little details such as Rupert being trapped in a building full of the undead.

“So go!” Rupert hisses through the grating at the window. Hisses in quite an inspiring way actually… As Ethan scrambles to assemble a few basic spell components, Rupert adds, “They could have more on the way! The anointed one is set to rise and –”

“Hold on to the bars”

Behind Rupert, a crash sounds as his makeshift barricade trembles. “Ethan, really, I need to hide and it’s not safe for you t… What are you doing?”

Ethan glances up from the bundle of herbs he’s set alight. “I said grab the bars, Rupert”

“I rather think I can’t right now.” Rupert glances around. “If only there was a cupboard or –”

“Wrap your arms around the bars! That’s it” Ethan relaxes as Rupert finally cottons on to the fact he’s trying to be helpful and reaches up to the grating, slides his arms through the bars and folds them. “Perfect” Ethan tells him, and chants a few words.

There is a bright, pinkish flash and suddenly Rupert is nowhere to be seen but, wrapped around the grating, is a little green snake who certainly wasn’t there a moment ago. Ethan smiles and scoops it up. “Up you come, Rupert” he whispers, standing at last. He kicks the spell ingredients to the side, has to hope the vampires won’t notice them, and retreats around a corner to hide, wrapping Rupert around his shoulders as he goes.

*****

The last of the scales have finally worn off by the time Giles returns home the next day. He imagines Ethan will be a little disappointed by that, but Ethan doesn’t comment, instead greeting him with, “I’ve found a store for rent” He hands Giles an advertisement he’s printed out. “Actually, the rate they seem to become available is rather shocking. That’ll be the hellmouth, I suppose.”

“A store?” Giles asks blankly.

“A shop.”

“Yes, I know that. I meant why?”

“To fill my days” Ethan shrugs. “To meet people and generally avoid the boredom this town excretes from every inane corner. In other words, to keep me out of trouble.”

“Well in that case, good idea. But are you sure being a shop keeper’s really for you?”

“Yes. That’s why I’ve put the deposit down already”

“Joint account?” Giles sighs as Ethan shrugs and nods. At least it’s not as bad as when Ethan bought that shed full of hexed rain sticks.

Still, he has mixed feelings about this venture. Certainly self-employment is Ethan-friendly, but Giles isn’t sure he’s committed enough to keep a business running for long. It’s not that Ethan doesn’t have a work ethic – as what might be called a consultant in the magical arts back in London he achieved a lot – it’s just that Ethan isn’t used to the nine to five. More the eight to midnight and the next few days off. But needs must. On the hellmouth, the magic people contract out is bound to be a shade too dark for the partner of a watcher to become involved in. Giles asks, “So will it be a magic shop?”

“No. We’ve got one of those and far be it from me to compete with an honest businessman.”

The word ‘honest’ gives him away. Giles asks, “So you won’t be selling anything mystical under the counter?”

“Well, if there’s a gap in the market…”

“Of course. And over the counter?”

“I was thinking art supplies. Or books. Or possibly party supplies.”

Giles privately makes a bet with himself in favour of the latter. “Well, you’d best choose quickly.”

“With the student population, perhaps party supplies?”

“Whatever you think best, dear.” Of course. Giles smiles to himself before a troubling thought occurs. “Do make sure you don’t sell anything magical for parties, won’t you? The last thing this town needs is frat boys getting high on raw power.”

“Frat boys are already high on raw power” Ethan replies as he wanders into the kitchen. “Tea?”

“Ethan –”

“Alright, I know. Obviously I’m not going to sell anything that isn’t a perfectly innocent sexy nun costume to someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

Giles nods, sitting down in the comfiest chair. “I’ll hold you to that.” “I know you will.”

“And tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Ethan is already halfway through making it. Carrying it through when it’s done according to Giles’ exact preferences, he says, “So, that’s my news. How was your day? Did anyone mention the scales?”

“No, everyone was too polite. I imagine they assumed it was a skin complaint. Except for Buffy and her friends, of course; they found it highly amusing.”

“Well I must say, I’m disappointed they’ve worn off already. I thought they looked rather pretty.” He sits down, looking thoughtful. “Maybe I should buy you a pair of snakeskin trousers or something?” he wonders, and then catches Giles’ expression and adds, “Or not” Drinks some of his own tea. “Nice thought though.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Oh, and now there’s begging…”

“Grow up, Ethan” Giles hears the resignation in his own voice: he’s been issuing that advice for twenty years and Ethan hasn’t taken it yet. But Ethan does at least know when enough is enough, and he now smiles and changes the subject with, “How was your day apart from that? Get any good cross-referencing done?”

“Actually, I witnessed Buffy’s dawning awareness that duty must come first, even before dating alarmingly overdeveloped teenage heartthrobs.”

“Dear. You watchers must feel like ogres at times.”

“I do rather. I wish she could have the life she wants but it’s not the life she has. At least I didn’t need to insist she stops seeing this young man: She’d broken it off before I needed to start choosing between duty and heart myself.”

Ethan comes over to perch on the arm of Giles’ chair, draping a consoling arm over his shoulders. “Well, I’m sure you were gentler about it all than the last slayer’s watcher.”

“I certainly was. I doubt Hugo Fletcher-Smythe confessed to ever wanting to be a grocer.”

Ethan crumples into a giggle. “ _Grocer_?”

“I was ten, Ethan. And I dread to think what your ambition was at that age.”

“Pirate” Ethan tells him, then leans down for a kiss.


	8. The Pack

Only a week since he opened and already he’s putting out new stock. Ethan supposes this is a good sign except that the place hasn’t yet seemed what he’d call busy. Customers have come in trickles rather than floods, a group of students here and parent with a birthday party to arrange there. Nothing he’d exactly call a crowd. Perhaps Sunnydale doesn’t have those. So far, the customers coming in to look for costumes have outnumbered those coming in for magical supplies, but at least the latter have always made a purchase. Far from being discouraging, Mr Dumitru of the Magic Box over the road, has been enthusiastic about having a fellow mystic in the area, though Ethan suspects this is partly so he has somewhere to send the creepier customers who come to him for supplies he is dubious about stocking. Creepy like Rack, for instance, who came in the day the place opened, sensing power. Skin-crawling creepy, but he could be useful.

Most of the customers after actual costumes have refrained from entire outfits in favour of accessories, albeit quite nice ones. Nice as in pleasant, insipid. Cowboy hats and sequined angel wings, clown masks. He’s going to have to get something more theatrical in, but not until the business is a little more established.

When a group of teenagers enter the shop, Ethan senses _shoplifter_ with a surety that only an ex-shoplifter can feel. So it’s something of a surprise when he looks up and sees Xander among them. His cautious, “Afternoon” is acknowledged with a cold nod from Xander and ignored by the other four. Ethan leaves the display he was working on and leans against the counter, the better for keeping an eye on them. Depressingly enough, they are the first customers of the day. “Xander. How are you?”

“Alright” Xander doesn’t meet his eye, paws through a rack of costumes.

Ethan turns to look at the other four teens. He wishes they weren’t spreading out around the shop like they are: it makes it harder to keep an eye on all of them at once.

Beside him, Xander comments, “Crappy costumes here.”

“Really? Feel free to fuck off then” Ethan focuses on a display of nail varnish, probably the easiest thing for one of them to pinch. Glancing back, he catches Xander’s smirk. Seems he miss judged the boy – he’d thought he was a gentle soul like Ripper had been deep under the muscle, but turns out he’s a thug, like Ripper had pretended to be on the surface. Ethan shrugs and goes back to guarding the nail varnish. Time was he thought shop keepers were petty for trying to keep hold of every last little item, now he is one and this stock is his money to defend. He takes a moment to feel old.

The rest of the group prowl the shop floor, occasionally pointing out costumes and giggling. There’s a clique feeling to them, an embrace of wordless in-jokes and they move as a group, mirroring one another’s body language. Annoyingly, there’s nothing Ethan can quite put his finger on as to why they unsettle him.

Well, sod it. It’s his shop. Ethan straightens up and heads behind the counter, kneels to retrieve a few handy ingredients from a box underneath it.

When he stands up, they are all crowded at the till. Xander asks, “What ya doin?”

“You’ll see.” Ethan mashes a few berries with a few herbs in a clay dish.

One of the girls taps the till. “How much you got in here?”

Ethan ignores her. He adds a splinter of crystal to the mix, puts his finger in the pulp and uses it to trace a pattern of symbols around the bowl. Then adds some dried leaves.

“Won’t be much” says the other girl. “Place is dead.”

“They’ll be a float” says a boy.

“You not going to share, Ethan?” Xander leans against the counter. Striking a match, Ethan sets alight the contents of the bowl, which erupt into realms of stinging blue smoke. Instantly, the teens spring away from the counter, coughing. The fire alarm starts shrieking.

“Bugger” Ethan clicks his fingers and the alarm sputters out, leaving only the sound of them coughing. Ethan stumbles against the shelves behind him as he flees the smoke, the clatter adding to the choking sounds, the squeak of shoes as the teens stumble in their rush for the door. “What the fuck, Ethan?” Xander gasps, rubbing at his eyes. He’d had a face full of the stuff from where he’d been standing too close. From the doorway another boy shouts, “You’re dead, old man!”

Choking as he is, Ethan can’t reply. But he’s confident it would have been a witty retort.

Once the group have fled, he snatches a bottle of holy water from the back room and smashes it over the bowl. The blue smoke vanishes. Ethan decides it’s time to call it a day and close up.

*****

Leaving Willow to man the library – and, he suspects, to torture herself with more engravings of the aftermath of predator possession – Giles heads over to Ethan’s shop during school hours to ask, “What do you know about Primal possession?”

“Warriors used to do it, didn’t they? In some African tribes.” Ethan glances up from whatever he’s trying to do to the till.

“Warriors? I thought it was a religious thing?”

“It started that way with the original primals” Ethan explains, his focus still on the till. “But I’ve heard it branched into a tactic for warfare. It helped soldiers readjust when they were back in the civilian population; they didn’t have any guilt to deal with about whatever they’d done in war because it hadn’t been them, it’d been a lion on a cheetah or a –”

“A hyena?”

Ethan shrugs. “I suppose that would work. I thought they were scavengers, but then again, I wouldn’t want to blithely walk up to one either. Why do you ask? We’re not going on a safari, are we? Because you know my feelings about the great outdoors.”

“I’m well aware.” Giles, who loves a good brisk walk or a kayak, and songs around a campfire (preferably to a guitar) has spent a lifetime compromising when it comes to holidaying with a man who thinks the great indoors was invented for very good reasons. “But I’m not here to talk about holidays. Ethan, what are you trying to do to that till?”

“Trying to get the sodding thing to work. Maybe it didn’t like the smoke.”

“Smoke?”

“Long story.”

With some effort, Giles pushes that aside. How on earth Ethan has managed to have a fire in here already is something he’ll just have to come back to when Xander isn’t possessed. “I see. Do you know how a possession actually takes place with primal magic? I know it needs a predatory act, but other than that…”

“It’s really not my area of expertise, love. Like tills apparently.” Ethan finally gives up on the object in question and leans against the counter. “Why?”

“Xander’s been acting very oddly.”

“And your mind immediately jumped to possession?”

Giles steps over to the counter and leans against it, briefly explains the demise of the school mascot and Xander’s troubling behaviour since the trip to the zoo. Ethan nods and replies with, “He was in here yesterday being an arse. I thought it was just him.”

“Well I blamed testosterone initially. But now this pig’s been eaten…” Giles shakes his head. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

“You probably know more than me. I’ve never worked with primals.”

“Is there any chance you could lock up early and come to help us with research?”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “I haven’t had a customer all day, Rupert. Party Town’s pulverising me right now.”

“And Xander’s possessed by a hyena. Which do you think I’m more concerned about?”

“Fine, I’ll come.” Ethan scoops his keys from the counter.

*****

This is the problem with getting overly involved in your partner’s career: before you know it, you’re babysitting an evil hyena spirit. An evil hyena spirit who is contained inside the book cage and is yet to taste human flesh, though, so that’s something.

Yet to taste it and obviously keen. Xander – or the thing wearing Xander – is suddenly up and pacing, a sinister smile at his lips. Ethan watches warily.

“Hello old man” Xander sneers.

“Hello Xander. Or whatever your name is. Do hyenas have names?”

“We don’t need names: we have scents. I can scent your fear from here, Ethan.”

Ethan rolls his eyes and turns the pages of the book in front of him. The engraving he finds isn’t particularly reassuring. Hyena-Xander says, “I bet you didn’t even want to come here. You just got dragged along, didn’t you? Me too; I never asked to come here either.”

Ethan ignores him.

“But we didn’t have a choice, did we?” The hyena continues. “And now you’re stuck in this place full of monsters because it’s what Giles wants. And screw what you want, hey?”

Ethan continues to ignore him. It’s easy because he’s not particularly fond of the boy. Xander/the hyena tries, “Hey – if you let me out of here, I could kill Buffy and you and Giles could just go home. How’s that sound?”

“Kill Buffy?” A new voice sounds at the end of the library. Dr Gregory has come in and is staring at the cage in some confusion.

“This isn’t what it looks like” Ethan tells him, at the same time that Xander cries out, “Help! Dr Gregory, he won’t let me out!”

Dr Gregory looks from him to Xander and back again. “I take it there’s an explanation?”

“He’s…not well. Rupert’s gone to sort it out.”

“Gone where?” Dr Gregory joins him at the table. “I onl – oh, God.” His gaze snags on the engraving in the book Ethan’s left open on the table. From the cage Xander calls, “Don’t listen to him! He’s going to hurt me – he said so! You have to let me out!”

Ignoring him, Dr Gregory stares at the illustration of scattered corpses and human-looking things feasting. “The principal” he says faintly. Ethan can’t think of anything to say in reply, but when the science teacher’s head swivels to Xander he manages, “It wasn’t Xander: it was the rest of the pack.”

“There’s more of them? What’s wrong with them?”

“Hyena possession. If you can believe that.”

“After the mantis and seeing that poor girl’s mouth disappear in the middle of my lesson, I think I could believe anything at this juncture.” Dr Gregory stares as Xander growls his frustration and resumes pacing. “Where are the rest of the pack caged?”

“They aren’t. I presume Buffy has a plan for tracking them dow…what?” Ethan trails off at the expression on the scientist’s face.

“We have to get out of here.” Dr Gregory tells him. “Hyenas will search for a missing pack member, they’re known for it.”

In case those words alone aren’t enough to chill Ethan to his core, the eerie laughter Xander emits does the trick. “Too late” he tells them. “They’re on their way; I can feel them. Too bad you old timers aren’t tender enough to eat. We’ll just have to kill you and go find Buffy.”

“He’s bluffing” Ethan says, but he’s not sure and another burst of creepy laughter makes him less so. Dr Gregory tells him, “My car’s right outside. If we can just get to the parking lot –”

But Ethan’s frightened gaze has found a primal symbol among the scattered engravings. Magic. “Why risk it?” he asks, and gestures to Rupert’s office. “In here.”

Barrier spells are bread and butter to an adherent of Janus the Guardian of the Threshold. Even with Rupert’s limited supply of spell ingredients and paraphernalia, Ethan can at least put a basic one around the school building. Sensing the magic settle, the hyena growls and yowls, all pretence at humanity gone. Outside, a dog-like chorus takes up the lament: the spell had worked just in time. “They can’t get in” Ethan tells Dr Gregory.

“And we can’t get out?”

“Actually we could, but I don’t recommend it.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Now, we phone Buffy.”

*****

It’s Rupert who answers the phone, and who sends Buffy over to lead the rest of the pack away and towards the zoo. There is some debate around whether to let Xander out of the cage and hope he goes to join the them before killing Ethan and Dr Gregory, but Ethan vetoes that idea.

“That’s probably for the best” Rupert agrees, “But it means you’ll have to get him here.”

“I’m sure we can knock out one hyena between us” Ethan reassures him, glancing at Xander through the office doorway. He doesn’t actually feel sure, especially not when Xander grins.

“Alright then, but Etha –” Silence. For a moment, Ethan thinks the line’s gone dead. “Rupert? Hello?”

“Is something wrong?” Dr Gregory asks.

“I’m not sure. But it looks like we’ve got to get Xander over there ourselves.” Ethan heads back into the library and stares at the thing in the cage.

“And how’re you going to do that?” Xander sneers.

“Like this: Somnum.” Ethan clicks his fingers. Nothing happens. Well, nothing except that Xander starts laughing. Ethan scowls.

“Um” Dr Gregory comes closer. “What was that supposed to do?”

“Sleeping spell” replies Ethan shortly. “It’s for humans but I hoped…Bugger.” They’re just going to have to knock the boy out. Ethan is no good at this sort of thing and doubts Dr Gregory is either. Dr Gregory who is now frowning and nodding with the air of someone formulating a plan. “I think I might know a way to go about this” he says, and beckons Ethan to follow him.

*****

Sometime later, they are loading a bound and unconscious Xander into Dr Gregory’s car. Buffy has long since led the rest of the pack away. “Since when is it possible to cobble chloroform together out of stuff in a school science lab?” asks Ethan, climbing into the passenger seat.

Dr Gregory start the engine. “It’s surprisingly easy to make with common household ingredients.”

“Easy but slow” Ethan mutters. “We’d best hurry.”

Dr Gregory does so, speeding the vehicle up as they leave the school grounds, but he comments, “I can’t help but think that you’re annoyed science beat magic.”

“Just this once, it did. Wait till we get to the zoo: we’ll need magic then.”

“Will it be easy, turning them back?”

“I hope so. I’m not exactly familiar with this type of spell work.”

“There’s more than one type?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“I’d like to”

*****

They miss most of the action. Ethan and Dr Gregory, a still semi-bound and groggy Xander wedged between them, step through the doors to the quarantine area just in time to find Buffy fighting a possessed zoo keeper while a group of de-possessed teens cower in the corner and Willow tries to keep out of the way. Sensing the arrival of the last of the pack, the hyenas in the zoo keeper’s mind turn their collective head to the boy, who is just starting to stir. A light flits from Xander’s eyes and echoes in the eyes of the zoo keeper, who turns of Buffy with renewed strength. And suddenly the boy in their arms actually is –

“Xander!” Willow starts towards him and the zoo keeper grabs her, uses her to block Buffy’s assault.

“Willow!” Xander struggles out the last of the rope and runs at the man, knocking him away from her and into the hyena pit. Hyenas surround him in seconds. Buffy reaches for the keeper as he screams and thrashes amid snapping jaws, but Ethan, not to be outdone entirely by science and primalism, is the one who saves him, levitating him out of the pit. Got to let Dr Gregory see some real magic, after all. Turning back to the room, he finds the would-be hyena gang have taken the opportunity to flee. Xander is hugging Willow and Buffy is relieving a stunned Dr Gregory of the rope, which she uses to tie the zoo keeper up after relieving him of his consciousness with a brutal punch to the temple. “Is he still possessed?”

“I don’t know” Ethan tells her. “I think not, though: the hyenas seem more active. I’d say they’ve got their spirit back.” They stare down at the prowling creatures and share a shudder.

Then Rupert appears. “Did I – oh. Hello Ethan.”

“Rupert.” Ethan heads over to him. “Don’t tell me you got knocked out again?”

“I err, I rather suspect I did. The last thing I remember is speaking on the phone with you. Is everyone alright?”

They all nod. Willow tells him, “The zoo keeper’s evil. But Xander’s not anymore.” She turns to her friend. “Right?”

“Right. I, err –”

“Do you remember anything since our field trip?”

“I um. I don’t think –”

“You will do.” Ethan nods to the zoo keeper. “Not that I particularly care either way, Buffy, but you can’t exactly slay him. He’s human.”

“Are you kidding me? If it wasn’t for this creep, Principal Flutie would still be alive and Xander would never have been possessed and wouldn’t have…” She stops rather abruptly and Xander looks stricken behind her. Buffy says, “It’s all his fault” and kicks the unconscious man.

“Look” Dr Gregory steps forward. “I don’t know what happened here but it seems to me that if you err – slay, was it? – you’d be killing someone unconscious who’s no longer a threat. You’re better than that.”

“He’s right, Buffy” says Rupert quietly.

Buffy rolls her eyes. “I know.” She takes a step back, folds her arms. Mutters, “First time it’s sucked to be the good guys.”

“But what can we do with him?” asks Willow. “We can’t just leave him working in a zoo what with all the animal spirits and all.”

“I’ll make some phone calls” Rupert replies, somewhat ominously.

*****

If Rupert is tempted not to bring him to Principal Flutie’s funeral, he hides it. Ethan has to assume, given that Rupert is new to the faculty and not exactly at ease with forming friendships unless he has a guitar to hide behind, that this is the first most of Rupert’s new colleagues are learning of the new librarian’s life partner. Possibly the first any of them know about it, apart from Dr Gregory, who has somehow become Stephen in the time that’s lapsed between watching the keeper carried away by a squadron of young men in tweed and watching the principal being lowered into the ground. Given the solemn occasion, most swallow down any surprise, limiting their reaction to a few raised eyebrows. It’s a little like the council weddings Rupert has dragged him to over the years. By the time invitations given to Rupert included a plus one, everyone knew Albert Giles’ son was…well, the council has a lot of euphemisms for it. Batting for the other team, steering from the other end of the punt, that sort of thing. Still shocking, for tweed clad bigots, even after years to get used to it, but with a wedding to get on with it was all whispers and glances. This is the same in a yes, it turns out the new librarian’s screwing a man, but we have a principal to bury sort of way. Well, not a whole principal, but still. It’s a marginally grimmer task than marrying off Travers’ niece, so everyone gets on with it and Ethan is left alone. He hopes Rupert will be too, when it’s all over and he has to go to work with these people on Monday. Probably. Californian teachers are likely more open-minded than watchers. The principal, for instance, seems to have been a nice enough bloke. Shame.

On the way home, Ethan comments, “The Computer Science teacher's interesting.”

“Computing is a science now?” Rupert responds.

“Or IT or whatever you want to call it. She’s into magic, too.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned her, actually. She’s rather attractive.”

“Do tell me you weren’t flirting at a funeral, Ethan.”

“As if I’d do a thing like…Um. No, not this time I wasn’t.”

“Good. And while we’re on the subject of flirting, you know where I stand on threesomes: those days are behind us.”

Ethan nods. “Just as you know my official position on the subject, love: We’ll see about that.”

“Ethan”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Alright, I’ll shut up. But I live in hope.”

“If it ever happens, it won’t be with a colleague.”

They walk in silence for a stretch. One thing Ethan appreciates about this town is that everything is in walking distance from everything else. He’d been worried that in America, they’d be condemned to drive everywhere. Ethan likes driving, but he likes variation more, and being out in the fresh air with Rupert more than that.

Rupert asks, “Will you be going over to the shop now?”

“No – I’ve closed up for the day.”

“I would have thought opening on a Saturday would be prudent, considering, err…”

“How shit business has been? Maybe, but I think things are about to pick up.” Ethan doesn’t add that his surety comes from a recent discovery of a spell to make people crave music and dancing. Harmless and temporary as the hex is, Rupert is squeamish about spells to control human behaviour. Regardless of Rupert’s potential qualms, Ethan’s hoping to cast the spell around the college campus and wait for some of the resulting surplus parties to be fancy dress. Which some are bound to be, aren’t they? He sighs: perhaps it will take more than this. Actual hard work, say. But not today. Today he has plans. “Rupert, it’s a beautiful day –”

“It always is, here”

“Well, granted. But today is a beautiful day and we’ve just been to a funeral. So how about we say screw work and go to the beach?”

“I need to update the watcher’s diary.”

“Do that later. First, let’s go out and enjoy ourselves. It’ll be life-affirming.”


	9. Angel

“So you’re not going to come over all watcherly and controlling?” Ethan asks when Giles tells him what they’ve learnt about Buffy’s mysterious friend. “Stop her from seeing him?”

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to. Buffy’s a special case, after all.”

“Ah yes. Didn’t grow up with a man in tweed commanding her every move. Actually has a backbone.”

“Ethan” Giles lets a note of warning slip into his tone at the insult to slayers past.

“But you don’t want to anyway, do you? Stop her seeing him, I mean.”

“No.” She’s the one girl in all the world. He’s the one ensouled vampire in -existence. Understandable they should be drawn to each other. “She deserves a bit of happiness.”

“You’re an incorrigible romantic, Rupert, anyone ever told you that?”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice.” Giles tries not to grin foolishly and fails.

*****

“Thank you” Joyce Summers smiles as Ethan places a cup of tea on her desk. “I wouldn’t worry about sticking around if you’re busy, Ethan: hardly anyone comes in this time of day.”

“Same at my shop, so I might as well stay here.”

“Well it’s very kind of you to help out.”

“Anytime” Really, it was Buffy’s idea, but Ethan’s happy to take the credit. He did show up, after all. And, as it turns out, Buffy’s mother isn’t bad company. And judging from the gallery she seems to have not-bad taste in art either.

“I appreciate it” she tells him. “After…well, whatever it was, it’s so nice how the community have rallied round. Mr Giles even went to make sure Darla was okay. I take it she was?”

“Um. Yes. Yes, I think so.”

“The poor girl. She seemed really sweet.”

I’ll bet, thinks Ethan. He wonders if the denial is a hellmouth-symptom Joyce has caught or if she’s just in tune with her new neighbour’s coping methods. Either way it’s bizarre to be sitting here chatting with her when he knows her daughter’s a slayer with a romantic interest in a vampire and she doesn’t.

She asks, “How’re you finding Sunnydale?”

“It’s alright. Quiet.” When nothing’s trying to eat you.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it? After L.A., I could use some quiet.” She smiles at him. “What about you guys? It seems a long way to come just for quiet.”

“Oh…” Ethan reaches around inside his head for Rupert’s cover story. “Rupert’s doing some research for the British Museum, and I wanted some sun.”

“So the library job is to pay the bills?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“And yet he’s made quite an impression on Buffy. She’s mentioned you a few times, too.”

Ethan smiles awkwardly. Suddenly the whole situation seems desperately sad: this woman will bury her daughter. The girl who’s mentioned him a few times will die within a year, or five, or eight. Never more than that. What’s he supposed to say? “She’s a dear girl.”

“She is. And I’m so glad she’s found some positive role models here.”

Ethan focuses on his tea and says nothing.


	10. I Robot...You Jane

“I told you you’d like her” comments Ethan as they walk through town the day after Moloch is exercised from the internet. An _uber-debugging_ is how Buffy described it, but Giles doesn’t know what either of those words mean.

“You told me she’s attractive” he replies “That’s not the same thing.”

“Well she is, isn’t she?”

“…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “I’ve got competition then. I’ll have to start dropping by the library at lunchtime.”

Giles regards him coolly. “Ethan, have I ever given you reason not to trust me?”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Of course not, Rupert, but it’s fun to be just a tad jealous. It makes me up my game.”

They cross the road toward the costume shop.

“So, I’m now a trophy in a game you’re playing with Jenny Calendar?” Giles shakes his head. It’s true, she seems a little more interesting than most of his colleagues, possibly even pleasant company if she could just shut up about computers. And she has a piercing, of course, and not in her ear, and he is just a little tempted to tell Ethan that, just to wind him up. But, catching Ethan’s salacious smile, he decides he’s wound up enough. Instead he says, “I think she’d get on better with you.”

“Maybe I should get coffee with her sometime? I’m dying to talk to someone in this town about magic.”

“You could always talk to me” Giles finds himself replying, despite wanting fewer conversations about magic if anything.

Ethan’s eyebrow quirks. “See? I’m not the only one who can be jealous.”

Giles attempts to reply but, finding he can’t without stuttering, is left to watch Ethan disappear into his shop with a triumphant grin. Internally, Giles shrugs: let him believe it. As Ethan says himself, a little jealousy isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Still, as he walks on to do the weekly food shop, he decides to get Ethan a few treats. Just in case he needs reassuring. After all, that not-an-earring is rather intriguing…

*****

Ethan barely has time to open up before Willow’s walking through the door, and if she were a cartoon, she’d bring a little thunder cloud with her.

“Hi Ethan” This said as though speaking is a chore.

“Willow. It strikes me that you’re not in the right frame of mind to advertise party supplies.”

Willow grimaces. “Well did you hear about my ‘boyfriend’? ’Cause I don’t think you’d be in a party mood either.”

So I might have the decency not to come to a party supplies shop and pollute the whole vibe, Ethan reflects. But the girl’s sorrow is so blatant that he can’t bring himself to outright tell her to leave. “Well…Willow, look, why don’t you go into the back room and make yourself a drink?” At least that way no-one will see her.

Drifting out a few minutes later, now with a steaming mug in hand and her eyes distinctly moist, Willow asks him, “Did you hear? Did Giles tell you?”

“I might know the basic outline” Ethan admits.

Willows nods, frowning. “Great. Even grown ups are laughing at me.”

“No-one’s laughing at you.”

“My first boyfriend was a demon possessed robot! Kinda hard not to laugh at that. I even laughed a bit yesterday but then we all got to thinking first Buffy with Angel and now me and Moloch, all we need now is for Xander to go out with a…a werewolf or something and it’s a, a…we’re doomed! I mean, dating in Sunnydale’s just…”

“A minefield? Welcome to adolescent”

“We it’s okay for you! You’ve got your fiancé! All I get is a couple of days thinking a boy finally likes me and then boom – literally. I mean, it exploded.”

“At least it didn’t hurt you.” Ethan takes a seat one of the mismatched chairs outside the dressing rooms, deciding he might as well have a go at changing Willow’s mood if she’s going to stay here with it. “And if you want angst and confusion, try being a gay teen in the seventies.”

Willows expression crumbles a little more. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it’s okay for you.” She sits down next to him. “Except that you’ve got Giles now so it probably is?”

“It is really.” He’s incalculably lucky, jokes about jealousy aside.

They let some moments pass in silence while Willow sips her tea. “Sorry” she offers again, after a while. “It’s just, my parents are out of town and I kinda didn’t want to see Buffy and Xander today.”

“So naturally you came here” Ethan deadpans. He doesn’t even know the girl all that well. Aren’t distressed teens Rupert’s area of expertise now?

“Well…I mean…I didn’t want to stay at home by myself. And you were really nice helping us out when Amy was actually not Amy and Xander wasn’t Xander…if that makes sense.”

“With the witch and the hyena?”

Willow half-smiles. “Put it that way and it really doesn’t make sense.” She sighs. “No wonder my parents are out of town so often. I’d be if I could.” She finishes her drink and sets the mug aside. “So, how long you been a warlock?”

Ah, a more interesting topic than teenage heartbreak. “Since I was your age, or a little younger.”

“Is it neat? It must be neat.”

“It’s…well, it’s Chaos magic, so not exactly neat in the tidy sense.”

“Chaos magic?”

“At it’s core, it’s about effecting change. Resisting stasis.” Throwing the proverbial spanner in the proverbial works.

“That sounds good. ’Cause my stasis? Not exactly working for me.” Willow has brightened considerably. “I’d love to be able to do magic; to just make things how I want.”

“It’s not quite so simple as that.” Or he and Rupert would be spending this weekend on an untouched beach with cocktails on tap.

“Well it’s got to be better than nothing. Nothing in my experience is everyone thinking you’re a nerd and one of the three who doesn’t turns out to be a way-cooler-than-me slayer and another one’s a demon.”

“Who’s the third?”

“Xander” says Willow. “But even he kinda thinks I’m a nerd. Even I _kinda_ think I’m a nerd. I don’t always mind it – I mean, I wouldn’t want to be Harmony.”

“Well, there you go.”

“I guess.” She twists to look more directly at Ethan. “Could I try some? Magic, I mean.”

“Well…” Saying no isn’t an option. She’s so delightfully eager. Bright too, and her thoughts are all over the place. Janus is bound to want to be acquainted.  But Ethan also has a healthy enough sense of self-preservation not to just hand over a spell book to such a changeable and inexperienced creature. Only looking back on his own teenage years does he really understand the danger he was so often in; he won’t go back to that for this girl’s entertainment. “I could cast for you.”

“Great! Cast what?”

“Lady’s choice” Ethan stands up and heads into the back room.

In the far corner, the shrine idles but there is an alertness to its blank gaze. Ethan pulls a comprehensive volume on hexes and transmogrification from a shelf beside it. “What do you actually want to do?”

“I want…” Following him, Willow pauses in the in the doorway, thinking. “I want to just not be me for a while. Not for long – I just want to know what it feels like to be someone who wouldn’t fall for Moloch.”

“Making people fall for him is Moloch’s modus operandi” Ethan tells her gently.

“Well Buffy didn’t fall for him! Probably her slayer senses or something.” The girl goes quiet again, lost in contemplation. “I know she fell for Angel but that’s not really the same. And definitely not the same for Buffy is how guys look at her. Xander for one.” Willow goes quiet for a moment, lost in thought before adding, “You know, really I want to see what it’s like to be Buffy. She’s the coolest person I know. And she deserves a break from the slaying, right?”

“Right” manages Ethan. Rupert will kill him for this. But it’s just too good to refuse. In a tone that implies _of course not_ , Willow asks, “Don’t suppose there’s a spell for that?”

In answer, Ethan grins and opens at the page on body swaps.

*****

“Trust me Willow: you don’t want to be me.”

“But it’s only for a couple of days!” Willow snatches the book from the shop counter where Buffy abandoned it, and Ethan watches her flick deftly through it until she finds the spell in question. “Look, it says the spell wears off at the new moon – well that’s Tuesday night! I’d have a Sunday of not being a total dork and a few days at school of it.”

“Yeah, and a couple of nights of slaying!”

“Only Monday nigh – oh, you patrol on Sundays too? When do you do your homewor…oh. Oh, but see! You could do your homework and I’ll patrol.”

“No, I’d be doing _your_ homework!” Buffy comes back over to the counter, plucks the book from Willow’s hand and closes it again, hands it to Ethan, who opens it. She adds, “Which is probably way hard. And I’d be sleeping in your bed, and meanwhile you’ll be patrolling and putting yourself in danger.”

“But I’ll have slayer strength.”

“Yeah, but not training.”

“But…but the strength! And Giles will be with me.”

“He might not be – he doesn’t come with me every time. Anyway, what can Giles do if you get jumped?”

“You’d be surprised” Ethan mutters. Willow says, “I’ll ask him to come. And he’ll think I’m you, so you’ll be his favourite slayer all week.” She offers a desperation-tinged smile.

Buffy turns to Ethan. “If this spell is so great, why don’t we just tell Giles?”

“Because Giles will get his knickers in a twist about it” Ethan tells her. “Not to mention, what would be the point if everyone knew?”

“Exactly” puts in Willow. “If everyone was just calling me Willow and acting like I’m same old dorky Willow but wearing Buffy clothes, then we might as well not do it.”

“Willow, no-one thinks you’re a dork.”

“Please Buffy? It’s just like a vacation. And a vacation for you from the slaying.”

“Exactly! You’d have to do it and you’d be in danger!”

“Like you are all the time! And you manage it!”

“I don’t want to!”

“So don’t for a few days – do this spell with me.” Willow beams. Buffy groans. “Will…” she turns to Ethan, expression more than irked. “Why’d you even show her this?”

“I thought it would cheer her up.” Ethan hands Willow the book.

“You thought telling her to literally change who she is would cheer her up?”

“It’d only be temporarily. It might give her a new perspective.”

“Come on, Buffy” adds Willow, “You’d get to not be the slayer for a while.”

Buffy seems to be wavering at that. Willow adds, “And you could come with on patrol so you and Giles would both be there to give me advice. You could even train me up a bit if you like. And anyway, things have been quiet.”

Buffy narrows her eyes at Ethan. “There aren’t any side effects, right? No way we’ll be stuck or end up in different people or something?”

“It’s a very reliable hex” Ethan replies smoothly, because that’s what he’s been told from people who’ve heard about it from people who’ve seen it done. In fact, he’s done body swaps before, just not this specific spell. This one, as it happens, is neater than his usual tipple and that’s why he suggested it: he can’t foresee any complications with it that couldn’t be easily fixed and he wouldn’t be advocating this if he could – he does have some qualms, both moral and pragmatic.

“Does it hurt?”

“Absolutely not. Rupert and I did a similar thing once for…for fun.” Orgasmic fun, as it happens, so he doesn’t go into details. Nor does he mention that Rupert’s views on magic have changed a lot since, and that possibility seems not to occur to Buffy, who muses, “Well, I guess if Giles has done it…But, Willow, what if you’re kidnapped or something?”

“Well, I’ll have super-strength. And you and Giles will be with me.”

“And Ethan” adds Buffy, with a meaningful look at him. “You can bring protection spells and stuff because this was your bright idea.” Willow brightens. “Does that mean…?”

“It means. But I am not using my vacation to do your homework.”

Willow grins and hugs her.

*****

“Are you sure you want to come along?” Giles asks on Sunday night as they reach the cemetery.

Ethan glances at Buffy and shrugs. “I feel like a walk.”

“And you couldn’t have taken it in daylight?”

“I’m not helpless, Rupert. I brought along some talismans, look” Ethan hands one to Buffy who takes it with a smile. She’s being surprisingly quiet, probably horrified at having to watch her watcher and his lover bicker. In deference to her, Giles relents and doesn’t question Ethan’s presence any further, though neither does he trouble to hide how grudgingly he accepts his talisman. “These’ll only work on carnivorous gershlores and complex-parasitic species in any case”

“Well I couldn’t make a talisman for every demon species, could I? We’d be loaded with so much bling we’d be pinned to the ground.”

Buffy is still studying hers, and looks up to ask, “So these don’t work on vampires?”

“You have a cross, don’t you, child?” replies Ethan, and Buffy checks the crucifix at her neck. “Yeah” She’s oddly nervous tonight.

Or not so oddly, Giles realises, looking ahead to the Alpert crypt: it could just be that she’s nervous about having a friend along on patrol. Giles sighs. “Hello, Willow”

“Hi, Giles” Willow slips from a tombstone and flashes Buffy a smile. “I figured I’d tag along tonight.” This is a tone of voice that makes it hard to argue, but Giles still tries with, “Willow, much as I’m aware I have Ethan in tow, I’m not sure four of us patrolling is really a good idea.”

“Why not?” asks Ethan. “Afraid we’ll scare the vampires away?”

“Well, I’m here now” shrugs Willow. “I might as well stick around and help.” There’s that confident smile again. Willow’s entire demeanour is more confident and at-ease than Giles is used to it being. She’s even moving differently, as they set off: purposeful and alert. And grinning away. It crosses Giles’ mind that she could have been drinking but no; she’s too steady for that.

Beside him, Ethan comments, “Nice top. New?”

Willow’s grin widens. “I got it on sale. Whole outfit, actually; I was at the mall all day”

As Giles reflects on how hellish a day of shopping would be for anyone who isn’t a teenage girl or an Ethan, Buffy pipes up, “Whole outfit? Where’d you get the money?”

“Found it in the – um, my – bedside drawer. Figured it was birthday money I forgot about.”

“Oh – oh but you were saving that up for a new hard drive!”

“I was? Oh – I was. But I figured I already have loads of computer stuff in my room and what I really need is a new look. One that flatters me but is still me, you see?”

“I see” says Ethan. “Well chosen”

Glancing over, Giles has to concede internally that as changes in style go, this is reasonable: Willow hasn’t radically transformed her appearance but has instead enacted subtle, flattering alterations that have left her looking more sophisticated and less cartoonishly patterned and hued. Perhaps that’s where the confidence is coming from. Certainly it’s better than some of his and Ethan’s fashion experiments at this age.

“Oh” Buffy is saying. “Well it’s…I guess”

Ethan coughs meaningful and the only meaning Giles can fathom is that he wants Buffy to spare Willow’s feelings, which is most unlike him. Willow asks, “So what did you do all day?” “I did my homework for the next month” Buffy replies. Giles cheers up a little.

“You did? Wi – ah – wow! That’s…that’s great. It’s really all done? But you did other stuff too, right?”

“I hung out with Xander at the beach and…and there’s a vampire nearby” Buffy stops suddenly. “You guys can feel that, right?”

Frankly, Giles can’t feel anything, except concern for the danger Ethan and Willow could be in. Beside Buffy, Willow murmurs, “Slayer senses” and looks faintly perturbed.

“Right” mutters Buffy in response. She reaches for a stake, grips it wrong. Giles gives her a meaningful look but she misunderstands, and looks around for the creature instead of adjusting her grip. Fortunately Willow, at least, was paying attention to her friend’s training this week, and reaches down to correct Buffy’s grip. Buffy flinches. “Oh. Right. Um. So, um, I think it’s this way.”

They creep towards the vampire, or vampires, Willow whispering to Buffy, “Quick jab to the face, then swing the stake. If he runs at you, flip him over your head.” It’s annoying because really, who’s the watcher here? But Giles doesn’t feel able to say anything because she’s actually correct.

It’s just the one vampire, but Buffy is still visibly nervous, and takes a few attempts to stake the thing, despite Willow joining Giles in shouting advice. Ethan, for his part, stands beside them uselessly and seems to be trying not to laugh.

Vampire finally slain and Buffy and Willow both looking a little shaken, Giles decides as they leave that this settles the matter: he and Buffy are patrolling alone tomorrow.

*****

“It was so weird” says Buffy, who is still in Willow’s body but in rather more sophisticated clothes than Willow would have chosen.

“Scary more like” replies Willow who has dressed-down Buffy’s body in baggy jumper and jeans and who has found a rather Willowish hat somewhere. “The way he ran at me? Definitely not looking forward to that again tonight.”

“Willow, we’ll all be there.” Buffy smiles a smile that looks odd on Willow’s face. “And you did great, you know.”

Willow smiles shyly, quirking the corners of Buffy’s mouth and then focuses on her homework. The pair have retreated to Ethan’s and he watches them from behind the shop counter, noting their confusion and feeling a corresponding sense of satisfaction at a job well-done.

After a while, Willow lets Buffy’s hand go lax on the page and asks, “Do you get that weird twisty feeling every time you slay?”

“What, nerves?”

“No, like, um…this sort of twist. Like something’s trying to throw you off? I’m not sure I’m saying it right.”

Judging by the blank look on Willow’s face, Buffy isn’t following. Willow shrugs. “I’m sure it’s nothing” and carries on with the homework. The poor girl has been lumbered with two sets, Buffy being unable to cope with most of her friend’s classes, but she doesn’t seem to mind. After a while she says, “I hope Xander isn’t missing us.”

Buffy’s expression contorts Willow’s face again. “Yeah, Will, about that. I um, I noticed you were kinda flirty with him today? I don’t want him to get the wrong impression.”

“I wasn’t flirty! I was friendly.”

“Yeah, friendly like you’ve known him years, which equals flirty coming from someone who hasn’t.”

“Maybe we should tell him?”

“I think not” Ethan cuts in. “The more people know, the more like your normal lives this will be.” And the more chance there will be of the whole thing getting back to Rupert. Last night’s adventure served as a reminder that his partner’s job really does involve watching a teen face down death on a nightly basis and that, therefore, he is likely to be overprotective. Ethan doesn’t like to think what he’ll say if he were to realise he effectively didn’t know where his slayer was for three days.

“I’m not looking forward to normal life again” Willow is saying. “Buffy, do you ever stop to appreciate how many guys smile at you?”

“Not the right guys” replies Buffy sadly.

“You mean not Angel?”

“Have you seen him?”

“No. Which I guess means nothing big is coming, right?”

“That or all of us hanging around last night scared him off. He’s not big with the socialising.” Buffy brightens. “Oh, hey, speaking of boys, guess whose number I got?”

“Whose?”

“Devon’s. I ran into him at the mall and we went to the food court together.”

Willow raises Buffy’s eyebrows. “Together? As in, together together?”

“It was very togethery. But only in a classmate sense…so far. Do you want me to call him?”

“But…but you won’t have time to go out before we swap back!”

“Exactly.”

“But he’s in a band! Why’d he be interested in me?”

“Will he thought I was you when I saw him at the mall. You realise how much guys like it if you’re the one to smile first?”

“I don’t know, Buffy. I don’t even know him.”

“So talk to him.”

“You remember I can’t do that with guys, right?”

“Just pretend he’s a girl” Ethan offers. “Actually, there might be a spell for that…”

“Really?” asks Willow, wide-eyed and non-repulsed, while Buffy counters, “But then he’d be a girl.”

“Have you done that spell, Ethan?”

“Alas, even I know that that’s not a story for young ears.” Ethan makes a mental note to stop while he’s ahead in the field of introducing-impressionable-teens-to-magic. “Listen to Buffy, Willow. Sometimes sound advice is even better than magic.” Not often, but sometimes.

“Exactly” Buffy resumes. “Willow, he’s human. Just let me call him and arrange something and you can go and just hang out. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“In Sunnydale?”

“Okay, maybe bad choice of words.”

“Do I need to remind you about the demon robot?”

“Well…that was online and this is face to face. Face to face in daylight with someone we know isn’t a demon who just broke out a book. Actually, I don’t think Devon knows what a book is.”

“Great” says Willow sarcastically. Buffy smiles fondly. “Willow it’s not a betrothal. You’re just hanging out. Getting the internet demon out your system. If you don’t like him, you don’t have to see him again.”

“Except for every day at school. Plus, what if _he_ doesn’t like _me_?”

“Then he has crap taste” Ethan replies. Buffy smiles. “There see? Mr Mojo’s on my side.” She pats Willow’s arm. “I’ll call him.” With that, she heads out the door, only briefly knocking over a hat stand. “Oh shoot – sorry, not used to being tall!”

Once she’s gone, Willow curls over the homework on her knee. “Great. Now I’ve got to learn to talk to boys.”

“It had to happen eventually.” Ethan sits down beside her. “And you don’t have to go, you know. If you really don’t want to.”

“I kind of do. Kind of. It’s just, it’s easy for Buffy.”

“Because she’s small and blonde? She got you this date in your body, remember.”

“Because she knows what it feels like to feel powerful. Last night in the cemetery? I know I sucked at slaying but it’s like her muscles remembered. Like every cell is connected to something bigger. And like it doesn’t want me in the driver’s seat. At least that’s how it felt.”

“The slayer line” Ethan frowns. Probably should have foreseen that.

“Whatever it is, it’s old and powerful and then there’s just me being used by it and I’m not even the tool it’s after.” She sighs, picks at Buffy’s jumper. “But Buffy, she could use it right back, you know? Own the power. I wish I could.”

“You wish you could have vampires attack you every night?”

Willow shakes her head. “Not Buffy’s power. I mean my own, if I had some. I wish I did.”

Ethan considers for a moment and then heads to his back room, returns with a book. “It’s just protection spells” he tells her, handing it over. “Barriers mainly. Just take some photocopies and bring it back.” No harm in her learning to protect herself, is there?

“Really?” Willow clasps the book with slayer-strength hands. “You think I could do this stuff?”

“Of course you can. Just be careful with it” Ethan doesn’t only mean the book.

*****

“I asked you not to come. Both of you.”

“I won’t come tomorrow” Ethan follows Giles through the cemetery gates. “I just wanted to stretch my legs.”

Giles shakes his head; is it him, or is Ethan getting even more contrary and unpredictable with old age? “You’re on your feet in the shop all day. Couldn’t you stretch your legs then?” Getting no reply from his partner, Giles turns to Willow. “And what’s you excuse?”

“I wanted to help” is the shrugged response. Beside her, Buffy seems to shrink in on herself. Really, Giles decides, this is getting farcical. He’s going to have to lay down some firm rules about who can and can’t come on patrol as soon as possible. But obviously not now: a row in the cemetery is hardly going to lessen the farce.

Suddenly, Buffy stops. “Oh”

Willow nudges her. “Wi – err – Buffy?”

Buffy turns to her. “I think there’s a lot of them. Over there.” She points at an overgrown crypt.

“Possibly a nest” says Giles. Gesturing for all of them to both follow and keep quiet, he approaches the monument. Nearing, they can all hear what Buffy’s slayer senses picked up on: chatter and laughter, the glass crescendo of a bottle smashing. Giles draws back, trailed again by the others. Out of ear-shot, Buffy murmurs, “Oh dear”

“It will be alright, Buffy” Giles tells her. “You’ve taken out how many at once? Three, four? The size of that crypt, the nest isn’t likely to be much more than that.” Meagre comfort to give to a child about to descend into a den of monsters but what else can he say? She’ll have to take out a nest eventually. But his slayer has gone pale. She whispers, “I-I don’t, I can’t –”

Willow grips her arm. “Will, it’s okay: breathe”

Giles gapes. “Will?”

And then Buffy faints, slumping to the ground, and Willow, watching, goes as pale as her friend. Sinking to his knees, Giles pulls Buffy to him and asks, “Willow?” He wonders if there’s a gas leak: Willow looks as deathly as Buffy and she’s gripping her head –

And passing out too. She sags against Ethan, who lowers her to the grass. Giles meets Ethan’s stricken gaze for just a moment before an eerie pulse passes through the night and the hair on Giles’ arm stands on end. In his arms, Buffy sits bolt upright. Beside her, so does Willow. Willow with colour restored but her voice faint as she asks, “Buffy?”

“Hey, Will” Buffy scrambles to her feet and runs into the crypt.

Giles springs to his own feet. “Buffy!” He gives chase but it’s over before he gets there: he bursts into the crypt to find a final vampire bursting into dust that joins the sizable piles of it on the floor.

“That was cool” Buffy tells him with a grin. “Did you see me Giles? Six of them! With one stake!”

“What I saw” Giles tells her severely, “is you running into danger moments after fainting.” It occurs to him that she might not have been thinking clearly so soon after regaining consciousness and he drops the harsh tone, puts a hand to her forehead. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine” She ducks under his arm and heads out the crypt. “Kind of hyped but…Willow!” Just outside the door, Willow stands looking nervous but not unwell. “Hey, Buffy” she replies. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. But what happened? I thought we had –” She catches Ethan’s stop-talking gesture and shuts up. Suddenly Giles has a feeling he knows exactly what happened. He turns to his partner. “Ethan? Something to say?”

“Nothing, Rupert, nothing at all. Only that…well, Buffy, this is impressive.” He stares past Giles and into the dust-strewn crypt.

“I just did it” Buffy tells Willow. “Without thinking, it’s just…like something was working through me.”

“It was the slayer line” Willow tells her. “It didn’t like me being i – err – well, at least we’re all okay.”

“Are we?” asks Ethan glumly. “Because it looks to me like I won’t be having breakfast in bed made for me any time soon.”

Giles folds his arms. “Well that depends on whether any of you feel like telling me what on earth is going on.”

There is a tense pause and then Willow bursts out, “Meandbuffydidabodyswap!” She turns to the other two. “I’m sorry. Keeping the secret’s just been killing me.”

“I’m sure it has, Willow” Giles replies. “And what is the secret? In English this time.”

“Oh, breathing, right.” Willow takes a breath. Beside her Buffy is shuffling her feet and Ethan has taken the opportunity to stroll oh-so-casually away. Willow tells him, “Me and Buffy swapped bodies. Ethan helped but it was my idea. Sort of.”

Giles takes a deep breath of his own, to keep from swearing. “I see. And how long –”

“For the last two days” Buffy replies. “But it would have worn off tomorrow if it hadn’t decided to, well, wear off now.”

“Right” Giles reminds himself that a cemetery is no place for a row. “Come with me. Both of you.”

*****

They catch up with Ethan on the way home: Buffy’s excitement and Willow’s nervous energy have them setting more than enough pace to draw level with a cowed chaos worshipper. “I can explain” Ethan tells him and Giles gives him the briefest shake of his head.

Once inside, he has them all sit on the sofa, side by side like mischievous children. Which, of course, all but one of them are. Ethan must think the same, because he resists the sofa-sitting, perching, arms folded, on the arm instead. “So” Giles begins. “At some point last weekend you decided to swap bodies. I don’t need to know why – I imagine you thought it would be fun –”

“–but –” puts in Willow but Giles talks over her: “Buffy, you abandoned your calling to a friend who then proceeded to put herself in danger two nights in a row and Willow you allowed yourself to be put in danger, and all in the name of teenage hijinks. That much, I understand. What I don’t understand is why, Ethan, you thought this was a good idea.”

Ethan tenses visibly as three pairs of eyes turn to him. “It was just a bit of fun” he grumbles. “No-one was in any danger”

“You didn’t notice the vampires, then?”

“You could have taken out those vampires yourself, Rupert! Or Willow could with her sparkly new slayer strength, and Buffy was still around! Not to mention me with protection charms.”

“Exactly” Buffy adds. “I gave Willow those tips, didn’t I? And I was with her every patrol.”

“You split your slayer training from the slayer’s strength” Giles counters, “leaving the world less safe than it was” He allows his glare to trail over them all. “What if the Master had found a way to rise?”

Buffy scowls. “Well, what were the chances o –”

“Not zero!”

There is a silence in which Buffy drops her glare, Ethan rolls his eyes and Willow picks at her sleeve. Finally Willow pipes up, “It was me. I wanted a spell to see what it’s like to be someone non-losery and Ethan…”

Giles turns his gaze to Ethan. Ethan shrugs. “It was just to give her a bit of perspective” he tells Giles.

“And it worked!” Willow chimes in. “I appreciate things more now. I mean, all that strength and the way it could tell I wasn’t the one who should have it – the way it just spat me back out again! It made me realise we’re all a part of something much bigger, and really, who cares about what a few guys think of you after that?”

“So will you go out with Devon?” Buffy asks.

Willow draws herself up and with the air of one post-epiphany replies, “Yeah. I think I will. Because if he doesn’t like me, wo cares, you know”

Giles rolls his eyes. “Yes, wonderful, you now see that teenage drama isn’t the be all end all and all it took was mystical forces!”

Buffy shrugs. “Well, I’m happy Willow’s happy. And Giles, if it makes you feel any better I feel a teeny bit more okay with the slaying now. Seeing someone else do it just felt ooky. And when the spell reversed it was like all that power was welcoming me back – all that rush. Not a bad feeling.”

“You see, Rupert? A new perspective. That’s magic at its best.”

Giles responds with an I’ll-deal-with-you-later expression and tells the two girls, “I’ll drive you home”

“I can walk Willow home” Buffy replies. “If –”

“No; I’m driving you. Come on”

*****

All the way home he’s on the verge of telling them about Randall. It would be easier here: he could unspool the memories into the silence of the car, all the while not needing to meet their eyes because he has to watch the road.

But he can’t. Can’t let them – Buffy especially – know that shameful side of him. Can’t let Randall be reduced to a cautionary tale. He lets the silence win.

*****

“I asked what you were thinking” Rupert’s voice is cold as he re-enters their home. “But that implied that you were”

“I already told there was no real danger” mutters Ethan. He’s getting a little tired of this. Rupert is so touchy on the subject of what he calls unnecessary spells. Well is art necessary? Or music? Take away all that’s unnecessary and the human race would return to the stone age.

“No danger? Willow was out on patrol each night!”

“With slayer strength.”

“That she doesn’t know how to wield!”

“It wasn’t like it was permanent – it would have worn off at the new moon!”

“It didn’t need to be permanent – a few days was all it took to put them both in danger!”

“Rupert, they’re fine!” Admittedly the moment they both fainted had been rather heart-stopping, but they’d got straight back up, hadn’t they? And, Ethan reasons, how was he supposed to know the slayer power wouldn’t be happy with the venture?

Rupert is shaking his head. “That spell was… Ethan, can you really blame me for having my doubts about chaos worship –”

“Oh come out and say it why not!”

“– when it puts the people I care about in danger! And meanwhile, you thought you were just having fun with this trick –”

“Technically, it wasn’t a trick; it was a enchantment –”

“Oh, good Lord!”

“– which I bet you’ll appreciate once you’ve calmed down a bit!” It really was clever bit of magic.

“I’m not going to appreciate you spreading chaos” Rupert retorts. “Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? It wasn’t really about helping Willow?”

“Yes it was. Partly.”

“Partly?”

“I can have more than one motive can’t I?” And Ethan catches himself letting that word slip: criminals have motives.

Rupert’s obviously thinking the same. In a weary tone, he asks, “Tell me. What exactly has this achieved for Janus? If nothing’s been changed beyond a bit of fun, as you put it?”

Well, at least Rupert’s taken on board all Ethan’s told him about Janus being God of transition. Ethan knows neither of them can possibly be aware of all the subtle transformations in the characters of two girls given a taste of a different life for a few nights. He’s probably done more tonight to maneuverer Buffy into embracing her destiny than the watcher’s council could have done in years and this is probably the first time Willow’s got a date in her life.

Not that Rupert looks likely to accept any of that right now. Ethan braces himself for more shouting, but when his lover speaks, it’s quietly: “Go fetch some spare bedding. You’re sleeping on the couch.”


	11. The Puppet Show

“Hey, Ethan” Willow bounces into the costume shop and grins at him from the doorway to the backroom. She holds out a book. “Here. I took copies, like you said.”

Ethan attempts a smile in return and takes it, puts it back on a shelf. “Thank you, Willow.”

“Just so you know, I didn’t tell Giles you let me borrow it.”

“Thank you” It comes out more sincere than the first response, and Willow frowns. “You guys are okay, right?”

Ethan forces up a grin from somewhere. “Oh, we will be. This isn’t the first of Rupert’s epic sulks.”

This elicits another grin. Willow looks carefree, Ethan notes. She’s kept Buffy’s alterations to her wardrobe but has added a few pagan-esque touches that rather suit her. He asks, “So how was your date?”

“Okay. He’s not my type though. I kind of got the impression he chooses his dates on the basis of who’s female and relatively nearby.” The grin widens as she adds, “But we ended up in the Bronze and I got talking to this really cool friend of his. And we’re going to the beach this weekend!”

“You and Devon?”

“No, me and Oz!”

Ethan smiles at the pinch of _keep up old man_ in her tone, and steps past her into the shop. It’s about time to close up, but recently, he’s been staying later than he needs to.

Following him out, Willow leans against the counter and asks, “Did Giles tell you about the talent show? Because I was wondering if you could teach me a spell for it. The ones from the book aren’t really showy.”

“No; calling attention isn’t really the point of barrier spells.” Ethan frowns. “Talent show?”

“Yeah, Giles and Dr Gregory are running it. He didn’t tell you?”

“Probably slipped his mind” Ethan pings open the till and starts tallying up the day’s takings a little less carefully than usual.

“So, can you? Teach me a spell, I mean?”

“With Rupert watching? Dear, I may be used to his sulks, but I’m not about to actively poke that particular bear. Possibly I could cast something subtle to enhance the performance but I can’t really think of anything.”

“I mean one _I_ could do. For my talent. And Buffy and Xander could assist or something. I mean, there already is a magician but if we use real magic we could make our act way better.”

“One you could do on stage for an audience would have to be something flashy and complicated. Teleporting an object or show duelling or some such. In other words, not for a beginner. Especially not for a beginner on stage with my prudish partner watching.”

“I’m not… I mean, okay, I guess I am a beginner but…”

“But nothing. Dear, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve photocopied a few barrier spells. I’m not sure it counts as a talent just yet. But luckily you have plenty of others.”

“Like what?” The upbeat tone has drained towards the petulant end of the scale.

Ethan considers for a moment. “You could program a computer on stage or something?”

“Believe me, that’s not gonna call the right kind of attention. Plus, it has to be short. And something Buffy and Xander can do.”

“Roped you all into it, has he? That’s Rupert for you.”

“Actually it was Principal Snyder.” Willow watches Ethan for a moment before adding, “But actually I’m kind of glad. I mean, emphasis on kind of, because standing on stage is sort of my nightmare. But at least we’ll suffer together and I think Xander maybe needs that.”

“He needs you all to suffer?”

“Needs us all to be together. He was upset we didn’t tell him about the body swap ’til it was done. He thought Buffy was being friendlier than usual but really it was just me being as friendly as I ever am and apparently that’s not the friendly he wants.”

“I see” Ethan would, he decides, be grateful if no-one mentioned the bloody body swap ever again. Unless of course they are Rupert, because at least then they’d be talking.

Willow asks, “So no spell?”

“No spell. Find a different talent.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Dear, according to Rupert you have top marks in every class.”

“Classwork isn’t a talent. It needs to be something fun. Like levitation.”

“How about you just sing or something? One of you must play an instrument”

“Not in front of people. My fingers get shy.”

“Sorry, Willow”

“Fine. Don’t come watch, okay? They’ll be plenty of people to witness the humiliation.”

Caught between wanting to assure her that he has better things to do than watch a school talent show, and reassure her that the humiliation is likely to be both limited and widely shared, Ethan doesn’t find an adequate reply before Willow is heading for the door, half-hearted goodbyes slung over her shoulder as she goes.

*****

“Ethan, I know this is none of my business” Joyce begins as she sets a mug of coffee in front of him, “But is everything alright? I know you like art but three visits to the same gallery in four days tends to set off alarm bells.”

“Well, you’ve got to remember we’re not in LA” Ethan replies. He sips his drink, the first anyone’s made for him in nearly a fortnight. “You’re bound to keep seeing the same faces.”

“No-one else has been back for a return visit this week. Is Rupert working late a lot? I know he’s been tutoring Buffy after school in the library.”

“That doesn’t bother me” Ethan lies. “I’ve been working late myself.”

“I’d have thought with his research project he’d want to limit himself to school hours” Joyce muses. “But I’m so glad he hasn’t: Buffy could really use some tutoring. Not to mention another member of staff who believes in her. Between him and Dr Gregory I think she’s starting to really enjoy school. Or at least as much as any teenager ever does.” Catching Ethan’s eye, she adds, “Sorry. You probably hear enough about teenagers, living with the high school librarian.”

“Well only” Ethan says, and then catches himself, amends with, “Yes. Quite.” and then to be polite, he adds, “I know Rupert enjoys tutoring her. She’s trying very hard, apparently.” And then he feels a twinge of not guilt, exactly, but something, for pushing the lie that is Buffy’s life more than it needs to be pushed. Because, really, let Rupert do the lying: it’s what he’s paid for. Honesty is one of Ethan’s few remaining virtues. Aside from anything else, the truth tends to be more chaotic.

Just to make things worse, Joyce replies, “I hope that’s true. I do worry.”

Ethan finishes his drink and does his best to look sympathetic without furthering the topic.

*****

“Hi again” Willow is becoming a regular. She breezes past a group of students cooing over a princess dress and comes over to where Ethan is wrapping a feather boa around the shoulders of a mannequin in a far corner.

“Alright, Willow?”

“Not really. A girl died at school today.” Willow leans against the counter and Ethan decides he needs some bar stools or something. She adds, “I hate school. I mean, I love school but I hate Sunnydale High.” Her eyes brighten with an idea. “Hey, I don’t suppose any of those barrier spells could close the hellmouth? If we tinkered with them, I mean.”

“Technically” Ethan swaps a purple feather boa for a pink glittery one and heads back to the till, “the hellmouth’s already sealed. It’s the mystical energy that still gets out that’s the problem. Plus, tinkering would be a mild way of putting it, if you did manage.” Which, Willow couldn’t because no-one could. But why not let her aim high? “I take it it was a hellmouth death?”

“A person death. But it just got me thinking about Sunnydale High’s high death toll in general.”

She sees the bigger picture, Ethan notes, even at times of great stress. Desirable in a Chaos mage, that. Why should Rupert be the only one to do some tutoring? He wants to ask how she’s getting along with the barrier spells, but holds back since that is hardly her priority right now. “Murder, you mean?”

“We think so. They used a knife. But it could still be something hellmouthy, Buffy says. We’re just not sure how.”

“Mind control?” Ethan suggests. “Or a demon with a penchant for playing with his food.”

Willow makes a face and Ethan reminds himself she may have known the girl. He adds, “Probably not though. In a school, they wouldn’t have time. It would’ve been quick.”

“I hope so.” Willow scoots aside as the students come over with armfuls of purchases. Not the dress, more’s the pity. Once they are gone and the door closes behind them with a clang, she changes the subject with, “By the way, we picked a dramatic scene for our talent, from _Oedipus Rex_.”

“Interesting choice. I’d have gone for something with less incest personally, but…”

“Do you have any ancient Greeky looking costumes? Something that’ll help me get into character, because if I’m still in my character I’ll probably run off stage or something.” Willow attempts a smile which wavers and then disappears altogether as she adds, “Or puke.”

“It’s one scene” Ethan reassures her. “And I thought you were a new, improved, lead singer-dating version of Willow?”

“Guitarist dating” Willow corrects him. “Or at least, I hope I am. But Oz isn’t going to date me if he sees me puking on stage!”

“You won’t puke on stage.”

“Right, because I won’t eat. Oh, but then I’ll pass out.”

“Willow. It’ll be a ten minute slot if that. You can do it.” Ethan remembers, suddenly, something he read not long ago, and adds, “Actually, I may have just the thing…”

*****

“Hello, Ethan”

“Rupert” Ethan shifts to lean against the counter, turning his back on the empty shop. “Sorry, can’t talk now; it’s rammed” He goes to put the phone down but the urgent tone in the formless words that issue from the receiver has him pressing it back to his ear, in time to hear Rupert say, “– every seven years. So far they have the heart.”

“What every seven years?”

“Do pay attention”

“Well if you’re going to snap at me –”

“Look, do you have a spell to detect demons or not?”

“Probably”

“Then get over here, quickly.”

*****

By the time he gets to school, Rupert and his children are sitting in the library being regaled by a sentient ventriloquist’s dummy because this is Sunnydale. The casting is a simple one, once a map of the school is found, and soon reveals one surviving demon from a bodysnatching brotherhood, lit up a twinkling blue on the area of the map that denotes the practice room behind the hall’s main stage. “And what’s that?” Buffy asks, pointing to a gleaming pink dot in the basement.

“That would appear to be a Lesser Snarlough.” Ethan tells her. “Probably hoping someone sneaks down for a smoke.”

“Great” Buffy mutters. “I’ll add that to my To Slay list.”

After that it’s a simple matter of Buffy trapping the demon and Sid killing it. Buffy lingers mournfully over his body for just a moment before going to take it out on the unfortunate Lesser Snarlough. No-one remaining knows what to do with the wooden corpse, so Rupert has Ethan move it to his office before joining him in the hall.

Alongside a real bore of a man – apparently the new principal is not an improvement – they sit through several excruciating acts before Buffy, Willow and Xander make their appearance. After an astonishing performance has the room applauding, Rupert removes his glasses and murmurs, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“What makes you think this has anything to do with me?” Ethan responds, clapping away.

“The fact that those three people were not Buffy and her friends. You hexed the costumes, didn’t you?”

“Would I do a thing like that?”

*****

“You realise you’re giving Willow the impression that magic solves everything?” Giles asks Ethan over dinner, the first they’ve shared in far too long.

“Not everything” Ethan stabs his meal moodily. “Just –”

“Stage fright? Low self esteem? Things easily fixed in less dangerous ways.”

“Easy for you to say” mutters Ethan. “You used to sing in front of an audience of punks every other night. Besides, neither spell was dangerous.”

“The bodyswap could have had disastrous consequences” Giles counters. “Especially if the slayer power had done more than simply set things right. What if Willow had somehow been made a slayer? What if Buffy’s strength rejecting her had killed her?”

“But it didn’t, did it?” Ethan snaps and then drops his gaze. “And I’ve promised not to do it again, haven’t I? Let’s just drop it.”

Actually, that’s a tempting proposal. Giles has been missing Ethan’s warmth in their bed and Ethan’s sleeping on the sofa for two weeks has hardly made him more reasonable in the circular discussions/arguments/blazing rows they’ve spent the last fortnight having. When they’ve been in the same room, that is, which more often than not, they haven’t. Ethan has been lingering in the shop and at Joyce Summers’ gallery, while Giles has stopped taking Council reports home to complete and instead stays late in the library, often then accepting invitations from Stephen Gregory and Jenny Calendar for after work drinks. It’s hardly sustainable. Letting it go seems the best course of action. Or would, had Ethan not pulled another stunt tonight. “And this spell on the costumes tonight” Giles forces himself to say, “could have had any number of complications. Blending their personalities with the characters, for instance, could have –”

“Well I had to do that. If I’d just turned them into their costumes they’d have run off the stage. They had to be compos mentis enough to run through the script.” “Running through the script was hardly a priority considering they could have been stuck like that” Ethan sighs his frustration. “When have any of my spells ever resulted in someone being ‘stuck like that’?” he demands. “Chaos magic is about change!”

“And _all_ magic is to be taken seriously!”

“I did! I do! It was one spell!”

“One completely unnecessary spell!”

“Unnecessary to you! Willow’s probably pretty thankful she didn’t embarrass herself in front of the school!” Ethan sighs again, before continuing in a quieter voice. “I just didn’t want her confidence knocked. Her new beau was watching”

Giles sighs himself, and shakes his head. “She’s young” he reminds Ethan. “Impressionable. It’s a dangerous age to start casting.”

“Would you rather people start as children?” is the response, “or as adults when they’re past the point it will really take?” Ethan sips his wine. “Face it, Rupert; adolescence is the best age to learn. Emotions are intense and the world’s new and vast. All that excitement, it breeds magic.”

“It also breeds recklessness.”

“Willow’s not the reckless type. Not deep down.”

“ _Anyone_ can be the reckless type if they taste enough power.”

“So she’s like you were?” asks Ethan and his voice is like mixed glass and snow: cold, barbed, but also soft. “She’s like me? She’s going to summon a demon for fun?”

Giles lets the pain at the memory hit him and slide away again, slowly. “No” he admits quietly. “She’s better than we were. Which is why we should keep her safe.”

“Magic will keep her safe” Ethan insists. “Protection spells. Barriers. She is growing up on a hellmouth, you know.”

“I just don’t want anything to happen to her because of us.”

“It won’t. I won’t let it. I am actually becoming somewhat fond of the girl.”

Giles nods. “I can see that” Only Ethan’s fondness could result in a body swap and three cursed costumes. Ethan smiles. “Well then. I take care of the people I’m fond of, don’t I? I look after you well enough.”

Giles offers a tired smile. “When you’re not ignoring me and gallivanting off to art galleries, you do.”

“You were the one ignoring me” Ethan retorts. “Making me sleep on the sofa and staying out late with beautiful IT teachers and temptingly virginal science professors.” He frowns. “Nothing happened, did it?”

“Only your twisted mind could imagine it would, Ethan.” Giles carefully does not think about what could have happened last weekend after the drinks started flowing, had Stephen not been around to play the third wheel.

“Just checking” Ethan sits back in his chair, dinner pushed aside. “So? Am I forgiven? Or are we at a truce at least?”

“Truce enough for you to sleep in the bed tonight” Rupert smiles.

“Thank Janus for that. My back’s been giving me so much grief I was seriously thinking about sleeping in the shop.”

Giles feels a twinge of guilt at that. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”

“So you should be. Next time you sulk, I’m keeping the bed.”

“I wasn’t sulking, I was merely –” Giles stops himself because this is a topic they’ll never agree on and, for now, he’s sick of trying. “How about we go upstairs now?” he offers. “Perhaps if you keep your mouth shut, there’ll be a massage in it for you.”

Ethan grins and for once stays quiet.


	12. Nightmares

“It wasn’t real” Giles repeats for what feels like the hundredth time and quite possibly is.

“It bloody well felt real” Ethan still sounds reproachful but he shifts to press his face against Giles’ chest. Giles reaches around and pulls the duvet over both of them. “But it wasn’t” he repeats gently. “It was only a nightmare.”

“The things you said…”

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“It felt so real.”

“I know, love. I know.” Giles runs his hand over Ethan’s back. It has taken a row, a hug, another row, sex and now tearful cuddling to convince Ethan that they aren’t breaking up, and Giles still isn’t sure he’s completely succeeded. He presses a kiss into Ethan’s hair. “I love you. You know that.”

Ethan nods and sniffs. “I hate this town.”

“I know. It’s been a horrible day.”

“I thought it would be fun, with the hellmouth and everything.”

Giles raises an eyebrow and makes no comment. Ethan continues, “But it’s too much. We’re in danger all the time here.”

“We knew that would be the case.”

“But I didn’t think it would be this sort of danger! I thought we’d at least be together.”

“We are together. I’m right here.”

Ethan makes an unconvinced sort of noise, and Giles pulls him closer. Really, he wonders if being together in a physical, co-habiting sense is for the best after all. Ethan would be safer and quite possibly happier back in London. It’s not as though they don’t have phones and Ethan could visit. Visiting the hellmouth had to be safer than living on it full time. Possibly Giles could visit London too, duty allowing. Ethan could resume his work and see their friends, and it’s not as though it would be forever…

Giles shuts down that line of thought. It’s already too painful to contemplate a Buffy-less world.

He sighs and runs a hand through Ethan’s hair. Whatever the wisdom of the plan, now is certainly not the time to suggest it. And there is a selfish part of him that is very glad of that and might just conveniently forget to ever bring it up. For now, he pushes it all aside and murmurs, “I love you. It’s alright; I love you” while Ethan hugs him tight.


	13. Out of Mind, Out of Sight

“Hi Ethan”

“Hello, Willow. What can I help you with?”

The girl edges closer, glancing over at a group of sorority sisters giggling over a neon bikini. “Do you have a computer? The one in the library’s going all floopy.”

“Back room” Ethan inclines his head and switches on a smile as a customer approaches the till.

It’s not until half an hour later that he enters the back room with tea for the girl. She glances up as he sets it down. “Thanks”

“How are things?” He asks. “Any luck with the barrier spells?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got them now”

“All of them?”

“I think”

“You’ve actually tried them all out?”

“Well, all ’cept the last one, but I think I know the theory.”

“Impressive.”

“Thanks” Willow pauses to type intently. As a little egg timer appears on the screen she adds, “And I will get to the last one, but Oz called last night so I ended up on the phone ’til bedtime instead.”

“And you sound devastated about it.”

Willow smiles widely. “He’s cool. I wish I could tell him about the whole monsters are real thing though. I worry about him going to gigs late. Plus, it makes everything strained. Well, more strained than my general awkwardness already ensures.”

“Your general awkwardness is endearing” Ethan tells her.

She blushes. But her reply is, “Yeah, well, I hope Oz thinks so.”

“When do I get to meet him? Make sure he deserves you?” Ethan says it in jest but it occurs to him it wouldn’t hurt to actually see if the mysterious guitarist is decent and non-demonic.

“Soon, maybe. But remember he doesn’t know about magic.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can change that without breaking any rules. One more guitarist knowing magic is real won’t jeopardise Buffy’s secret identity, will it?”

“I guess…”

“Guitarists make excellent lovers, you know” Ethan adds, remembering a younger Rupert, and Willow’s blush deepens. “Oh” she manages, “well, um…um, we haven’t…Oh, look! I’m in!”

The screen has rearranged to display a list of names and photographs. Ethan frowns. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find out about these students. They’re all dead or missing.”

There are a lot of names on the list. Ethan mutters, “Fuck” and Willow glances up again, eyes widening. Ethan rolls his own. “Like you’ve never heard a swear word before.”

“Well. Not from a grown up.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, don’t tell Rupert.” Gods, but how sheltered is this child? It’s charming. He watches as she types, eventually asking, “So who are you looking for?”

Willow scrolls down the list. “We’re trying to find someone invisible, which, you know, kinda hard.”

“So you think one of these missing kids vanished deliberately? And literally.”

“Not deliberately, at least not according to Dr Gregory. He thinks it’s physics.”

“Um. I might need a little more detail for that to make sense.”

“It’s quantum mechanics meets hellmouth: he says there’s a theory that we shape reality by how we perceive it and Giles thinks what with the hellmouth and all…”

“The theory holds?”

“And then some. We think this kid became invisible because they were unpopular so as someone with exactly two friends and an Oz, I’m thinking yikes.”

“You’ll be fine, Willow”

“Yeah, I hope. Because two friends and an Oz”

“Sounds like plenty to me”

“Right…I guess I’ll just print this off for Buffy, and see if I can get any more info on these guys, see who it’s likely to be.” Willow opens up a page of what looks suspiciously like private medical records. Ethan asks, “Does this qualify as hacking?”

Willow looks shifty. “If I say yes, are you gonna tell me to stop?”

“No, just curious.”

“Oh, then yes.”

Never heard an adult swear and yet she can hack into medical records. Hm. Ethan asks, “Who taught you?”

“I kind of taught myself. Trial and error.”

“Like me with magic” Ethan smiles and Willow smiles back, but frowns again in concentration as she stares at the screen again. After a few moments of typing she asks, “Just in case it isn’t physics, do you know any spells that could turn a person invisible? Giles couldn’t think of any unless they have some sort of godly cloak and we’re thinking not because then they’d be doing something more interesting than beating up Mitch.”

“They’re violent?”

She nods. “Baseball bat violent. So, any spells come to mind?”

“Nothing I can think of” Ethan shrugs. “I’ll ask around.”

He closes early to ask the only two people he knows might know. He has to visit Rack anyway to buy some inter-dimension Rafflesia seeds he promised a Chaos demon he met at Willy’s Place, but the warlock is as unhelpful as ever, trying to persuade him to part with cash or magic in exchange for invisibility spells which Ethan knows couldn’t possibly work rather than actually providing any information. Leaving Rack to feed off the pretty and doomed, Ethan heads back to the centre of town to talk with Mr Dumitru at the Magic Box, but he is as stumped as Ethan. Invisibility is the stuff of ancient legends and the odd individual with an innate ability, not of practical spell work. So Ethan sets the question aside as being up to Rupert and his crack team of hacker teens to solve. Doesn’t think about it again until the invisible brat almost kills them.

*****

“I keep telling you I’m fine” Rupert mutters later that night, still hunched over the Codex.

“You still sound croaky.” Ethan sets a mug of cocoa next to him.

“I’ll be alright” Rupert pointedly moves the mug to the coffee table. Catching Ethan rolling his eyes, he says, “Well it would be a poor look out if the Pergamum Codex is rescued from obscurity only to get drenched in cocoa ten minutes after entering our home.”

“Fair enough” Ethan eyes the book. “I wonder how he knew where to find it?”

“I have no idea.” Rupert sits back down at the desk again. “What I do know is I’ll have to be vague when I report back to the Council.”

“Dare you to just tell them” That would give the council elite a good rattle. And the fact that it would only be the truth makes the prospect all the more delightful.

“Tell them that a vampire’s working with us? Not bloody likely. I think they’d send special ops.”

Ethan shrugs. “You know I can handle them” At the expression Rupert makes at that little reminder, Ethan judges it best to change the subject. “Alright, fine. Let’s have a look at this book then.”

“It’s, it’s written in a range of archaic languages. I’m going to need some time.”

Realising that Rupert intends to sit up all night with the thing, Ethan scowls. “I see. But tomorrow it goes with you to the library.”

“It’s a very valuable book to keep in a public building…” Rupert turns a page.

“So be it. I’m not having you bringing yet more work home.”

“You bring work home all the time, Ethan. You used to work from bloody home.”

“Back in London. Not here – here we might actually be eaten by something so I’d like us to actually spend quality time together when we’re not at work.”

“To be fair, there were plenty of things that could have eaten us in London.”

“You always did know how to make me feel better, love.”

Rupert glances up. “You don’t need making feel better. You’re not upset, you’re just annoyed I won’t be joining you in bed ’til late.”

“That’s a type of upset.”

Rupert looks put upon, but he says, “Alright. I’ll keep the book in the library as of tomorrow. There’re books there that might prove useful deciphering it in any case.”

“Good”

“But tonight, I do need to study it.”

Ethan huffs but says nothing further. For all he might joke about Jenny Calendar, his real rivals when it comes to Rupert’s attention have always been books.


	14. Prophecy Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 1 episode 12, Prophesy Girl, written by Joss Whedon, and from season 2 episode 13, Surprise, written by Marti Noxon.

Entering the school, Ethan is knocked sideways by the earthquake. Not knowing what to do other than dive under a table (there aren’t any) he presses his back to a row of lockers and prays Californian architecture is as able to cope with this eventuality as expat magazine have reassured him it is.

Thankfully, nothing heavy falls, the roof holds firm and, once the shaking stops, he is able to stand and carry on to the library. “Rupert?”

Rupert stares at him from the office doorway. “Ethan” He blinks a few times. “What are you doing here?”

“Lovely to see you too”

“Sorry. I just mean, you knew I was working late.”

“You didn’t say how late. I was starting to worry.”

“Are you alright? There was an earthquake.”

“Yes, I noticed.” Ethan frowns. “What about you?” His partner looks dazed and Ethan jumps to the obvious conclusion. “Did you hit your head?”

“Hm? No, no, I’m...” Rupert shakes his head as though in disgust and heads back into the office. Sweeping aside spilt tea with his sleeve he opens a book. The Codex. “Look at this.”

Ethan looks at it and then takes a seat, bends closer to focus on the necessary translation. Behind him, Rupert sweeps up and then sits down, heavily. It doesn’t take Ethan long to realise where the heaviness comes from. “Oh”

“Yes”

So the poor child is doomed to barely make two years from being called, and after doing so well and trying so hard. Ethan remembers, suddenly, the betting pool he was in back in London and feels sick. “Rupert, I’m so sorry.” He turns to find Rupert’s face is closed, the emotion safely tethered down. Rupert replies, “There’ll be a way around it. There has to be.”

Ethan says nothing. This is the Codex, not some cheap horoscope. Unless, “A miss-translation, perhaps?”

“Perhaps” Rupert’s eyes brighten at that hope. “I’ll have to look over it again, to be sure.” Rising, he pauses. “You concur then? It says she’ll…That she’ll…”

“It says she’ll die” Ethan agrees quietly. “At least, that’s how I read it.”

“Then we must both be reading it wrong.”

Ethan sighs, stands, and hands the Codex back. Suddenly that earthquake isn’t seeming as benign or mundane as mere fault lines.

*****

“Ethan” Buffy stops short when she sees him in the library the following morning. “Hi”

“Hello, Buffy” Ethan’s voice sounds remarkably normal and Giles wonders how he manages it. Wonders if it’s by not caring all that much but dismisses the idea because, well, he can’t think that and still love the man. Not to mention he has stayed with him all night to help research. They are both rumpled, strained and coffee-strung.

“Giles? Earth to Giles?” Buffy’s voice penetrates his thoughts. Giles blinks. “Hm? Sorry Buffy”

“Wow, you’re spaced. You guys have a big night or something? Actually, don’t tell me; there might be an ew factor.”

“He’s just tired” Ethan tells her and, behind Buffy, Giles quickly raises a finger to his lips. _Don’t tell her_. Catching his eye Ethan adds, “Late night. I drove him in.”

“Ah” says Buffy, “Hence you not being currently surrounded by books instead of cool costumes.”

“I forbear”

“Too bad for you the dance isn’t a costume party.” Buffy frowns. “Actually, too bad for me – I could have had a friends and family discount at your store, right?”

Ethan’s face softens uncharacteristically. “Yes” he replies, “you certainly could.” Suddenly Giles finds he can’t look at either of them. He slips off his glasses and focuses on them. Oblivious, Buffy adds, “Then again, a not-costume occasion is good too what with the dresses. Except I still haven’t got mine.”

This is too much for Giles. He turns and makes the few strides into his office and shuts the door.

This can’t be. But it is. The Codex is never wrong and last night’s research suggests his translation wasn’t either. Giles tries to consciously think it: _Buffy will face the Master and she will die_. It’s monstrous.

He doesn’t know what to do. Send for help from the Council? They will tell him that it’s the Slayer’s duty to die, sooner or later. But that’s easy to say from the other side of the Atlantic and this is sooner, it’s too soon. She’s so young. He’s had so little time with her.

No; the Council can’t change destiny and nor can he, no matter how much he wants to. Not matter how cruel and unfair it is. If destiny had any interest in being fair the chosen one would be a super-powered elderly person who’d lived their life and volunteered. But it’s not. It’s Buffy.

The door opens and Ethan’s arms enfold him from behind. Giles asks, “Is she gone?” and then registers the connotations of the question and flinches.

“Yes. To biology with all the grace of a teenager who doesn’t like biology very much. Good luck to Stephen.” Ethan sighs. “Maybe the Codex is wrong after all? There’s got to be some point where it screws up.”

“I’m afraid not.” Giles knows there is still a lot to do. He needs to prepare Buffy, whether he wants to or not. Should he tell her? No: let her die innocent. But then he’ll have to prepare her for the battle all the same, in the hope that she can at least destroy the Master before the worst happens, and then the last words he says to her will be a lie. How can he bear that? For the first time since returning to the Council, Giles finds himself wondering if he can do this at all – actually force himself to send Buffy after this threat which he knows will kill her. Write it all down in the diary, for future watchers in the same hellish situation to gain – what from, exactly? What lessons, what insights could make this bearable?

But he’ll have to bear it, somehow.

And the master? The prophesy isn’t clear on what happens to him. In case Buffy can’t stop the Master, Giles will have to have preparations in place. He’ll have to keep horror at bay until the new slayer is identified and brought in. But first, “Let’s check the Codex against my other volumes. Maybe one of them will give more detail.” Some alternative, perhaps. Some rewording that will make everything right. Because Giles doesn’t know how to go about bearing a world without Buffy, and no matter how much he reminds himself of destiny and duty, he can’t accept that there’s no other way.

*****

“Ethan, you know I wouldn’t ask this unless it was vital, but could you find the hellmouth with magic? If it opens, we’ll need to be prepared.”

Ethan looks up from the book he’s searching through. “You don’t know where it is?”

“Do you?”

“No, but I assumed with your watcherly insight you’d know”

“Unfortunately, the records are vague. It’s been dormant for some time and the last time it was seen opening by anyone with an inclination to keep records, they didn’t survive to do so.”

“But you’re just blithely assuming I’d survive trying to find the thing with magic? Rupert, do you have any idea the power this thing has? If I try feeling around for it, it’ll slap me down. Hard.”

Rupert looks suitably guilty, but he says, “I know it’s a lot to ask.” A pause and then, “Are you certain the resistance would be that bad?”

Ethan sighs. Truth be told, he may be exaggerating slightly. But only slightly. “I’d rather ask around. See if anyone I know can shed any light on it.”

“You mean any _thing_ ”

“Is that really the issue right now?”

“I suppose not” But Rupert looks unhappy. “Be careful, won’t you? With all that’s going on, they’ll be riled up.”

“I’ll be alright” Probably still safer than the sort of magic it would take to pinpoint the hellmouth.

“Speaking of non-human contacts, I should call Angel”

“You expecting to find him in the yellow pages?” Ethan raises his eyebrows as Rupert picks up the receiver and dials. “You have his number?”

Rupert shushes him. Behind him, Jenny Calendar appears in the doorway and Ethan gets up to meet her. “Hello, Jenny”

“Oh, hi Ethan. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Nothing I’m not happy to have a distraction from” Ethan leads her into the main library, leaving Rupert on the phone to the vampire.

“That sounds bad” she comments, placing an armful of newspaper articles on a table.

“It is, actually.” Ethan pauses. “How much has Rupert told you?”

“About what?”

“About how much more there is to him than dispelling the odd demon from the internet.”

“Not much. But I’m guessing he’s a retired demon hunter? Guessing and hoping, that is.”

“Enough with the ‘retired’” An old Rupert would make Ethan old, and he’s still reassured enough that they’re not all going to die to care about that. That or maybe caring about that is reassuring because if he cares about it, he can’t really believe they’re all going to die, can he?

“Retired, on sabbatical, whatever. Am I right?”

Ethan pauses. So much easier if she just knew, but it’s not his secret to tell. “Close enough” he concedes. “But you’d have to ask him.”

“Sure. Actually I came to ask him about these” She hands over the papers and Ethan scans the headlines: freak accidents, weird weather events, general omens. “Ah”

“It’s apocalypse stuff, isn’t it?” Her eyes are wide. “All the chatrooms have been exploding. At least, all the ones that’re actually useful about occult stuff. And I keep getting emails from this Brother Luca guy in Cortona about some Anointed one.”

“The Anointed One?” Rupert has emerged from the office. “He’s dead.”

Jenny’s eyes go wider still. “Someone’s dead?”

“I’ll leave you to explain” Ethan tells Rupert. “I’m going to go around town for a bit.”

Rupert nods. “Be careful”

Heading out the library, Ethan runs into Willow, hurrying somewhere and looking harried. “Everything alright?” he asks her.

“What? Oh, hi, Ethan. Yeah, I’m just going to the vending machine for Xander. He’s upset that Buffy isn’t going to the spring fling with him and I can’t exactly magic him up a girlfriend so I figured I’d get him a coke.” She frowns. “I can’t, right? Magic him up a girlfriend?”

“You can’t” Ethan confirms, vaguely aware that he’d be worried by the question if there was room in his head for more worry than he already has.

“Coke it is then. And he can hang out with me and Oz for the dance. He’ll be okay. Hey Ethan? Don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?”

“Actually I’m just leaving. Want to join me?”

“But it’s a school day” Willow looks adorably scandalised. Wrinkling her brow, she adds, “Where?”

“Trying to find out anything about what the Master’s up to. Could be an education.”

“No thanks, I’ll stick with the regular kind. I have French next.”

“Alright then. See you, Willow”

“Bye, Ethan”

Poor innocent child, he thinks, no idea she’s about to lose a friend. He’ll be having the old _no you can’t magic someone back from the dead_ conversation before he knows it. And then she won’t be an innocent child anymore.

*****

The atmosphere in Willy’s Place is palpably unpleasant. Marvin, the piercing-laden teenage-looking vampire behind the bar, glances up nervously as he heads over. “Hey, Ethan. If you’re looking for Rack, he just left.”

“Why’d I be looking for him?”

“Well I figured as you’re both human”

Ethan tuts. “Speciest.”

“Yeah well, look, you probably shouldn’t be here: it’s not safe for people like you today.”

“People like me as in people?”

“That’s right. ’S’why Willy left me in charge of the place. Something big’s going down.”

Carefully, Ethan pulls his chalk from his pocket and leans on the bar, tracing the symbols for a cloaking spell on its beer stained surface. “Or coming up?” he suggests.

Marvin shrugs uncomfortably. “I dunno” His glance flickers to the only other patrons in the place: two vampires and a something else, huddled around a table.

The symbols drawn, Ethan holds out a finger to the vampire. “Would you mind? I’ve a pin somewhere but this is quicker.”

With an exasperated grumble, the vampire leans across the bar and nips Ethan’s finger. Ethan flinches and pulls the digit away, shakes it over the symbols until each is anointed with at least one drop. “Thanks”

“Welcome” Marvin licks his lips, sucks his fangs back in. Around them, magic swells and the conversation at the other end of the room is muted as an almost-invisible shimmer descends around them. Marvin groans. “You realise no-one will come to the bar now?”

“I’ll drink up quickly then, but I’ll not be forced out. What’s he got in?”

Marvin fetches the sadly limited collection of bottled beers and Ethan makes his selection, trusting the tap in this place not being an option. That done he asks, “So you’re not rushing out to join the Master’s army?”

“My sire wants me to” the vampire admits. “But come on: can you see me rampaging? I don’t like crowds. ’Sides once we’ve killed all the humua – oh. Um, no offence.”

“None taken. You were saying?”

“Yeah, well, once we’ve um, once it’s all done, what do we eat? I mean, take me, along with working here, I’m doing fine just turning tricks. Won’t be any punters after the Master’s done.”

Ethan nods, doing his best to look like the next questions are just occurring by-the-by. “But your sire’s all for it?”

“I think he’s overcompensating. Wishes he was more of a killer. But the flop house means no bodies, right? And there’s a slayer in town now; gotta think of that.”

“Very true. What about the rest of you?”

“At the house? Oh, they’re mostly tagging along. He’s got them all riled up.”

“Tagging along to where, exactly?” Ethan gives a self-deprecating smile. “Just so I can be elsewhere.”

Marvin shakes his head. “He didn’t even say. If I were you I’d just skip the whole town.” He gestures to the symbols on the bar. “Can I rub these out now?”

“Not just yet. So, how do you know where to go? If you do, I mean.”

“I think I’m supposed to just sense it. Blood memory, my sire calls it.” Marvin shrugs. “Maybe I will go. If I don’t, I might regret it, you know?  I mean, if the punters are dead either way.”

Suddenly, Ethan feels keen to be elsewhere. If even the ones who usually stick to the nips-for-cash lifestyle are talking like killers, you know something big is coming. “I suppose so” he replies evenly. Marvin muses, “Sometimes I think I should just get out of Sunnydale. Go somewhere everyone’s not always got some big shot to serve.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll do that if things don’t pan out here. I mean, I’m sixty-three, it’s about time I stopped worrying what my sire thinks.”

Ethan raised his bottle a little in a mock toast. “Good luck to you”

“And you. Hey, Ethan, you really should leave town. Willy’s gone to see his mother and Rack’s saying he’ll shift his place to the desert until it’s over.”

“Sorry, Marvin, I’ve got work on Monday.”

“The Master’ll have risen by Monday.”

“Or risen and fallen” Ethan shrugs. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Well, your funeral.”

Ethan takes his time over his drink before wiping the symbols away and leaves without another word.

*****

The rest of the day is fruitless. Ethan speaks to Dumitru at the Magic Box, but, though he knows enough to be heading off on an impromptu visit to his youngest at college, he doesn’t know anything useful. Most of the demons who come to the costume shop’s backroom for mystical bric-a-brac are nowhere near nasty enough to know where the hellmouth is beyond vague and obvious descriptions like “Underground” or “Wherever the mojo’s strongest I guess. Never looked for it”. The few who do seem dangerous are nowhere to be found and Ethan can’t find the flop house either, which he’s never actually visited what with being uninterested in near-death experiences. When he returns to Willy’s Place to ask for directions, it’s closed already. That only leaves Rack and, though Ethan decides he would just about rather deal with him than find the hellmouth with magic, it seems he really did head for the desert or at least isn’t downtown.

Resigning himself to doing magic more powerful than even he likes, Ethan returns to the school.

It’s mostly closed up already, though two students linger by the lockers. As Ethan enters, he recognises, “Willow. Hello” He wonders if Rupert’s told her until she comes closer and he sees her strained expression: she knows. “Tough night?”

“Yeah” she answers, “and then some.”

“Rupert around?”

She nods. “Back in the library. This is Oz, by the way. Oz, this is Ethan.”

The second student comes forward and simply says, “Hello”

“Hello Oz. I’ve heard great things”

Oz smiles almost imperceptibly, though it grows when he notices Willow’s blush. “Ditto” he replies, which would cue Ethan’s turn to blush were it not for him being both distracted and unsurprised. Willow puts in, “Oz just found out about the whole magic and vampires thing, so he’s got a lot to take in.”

“Well it actually explains a lot” says Oz, who seems remarkably calm, though Ethan is starting to suspect that’s a pattern.

“And I floated his guitar” adds Willow, “just so he knows I’m not crazy”

“It was scary” Oz almost has a facial expression. “I haven’t even reached E-flat diminished ninth.”

Ethan nods, an eyebrow raising. Turning to Willow he says, “Do introduce him to Rupert properly once this is all over, won’t you dear? They could have a jamming session, Gods help us.” To Oz he adds, “And consider yourself warned against hurting this young lady, by the way.”

“I won’t” The boy is charmingly sincere. Willow blushes again.

Mentor/magic tutor/fellow mystic duties thus dispatched, Ethan leaves them and heads to the library.

Rupert is still pouring over books, helped now by both Jenny and Stephen Gregory. Ethan greets him with, “Well done on maintaining the secret identity” and, seeing Rupert’s scowl, adds, “Just keeping things light-hearted.”

“Things aren’t light-hearted. What did you find out?”

“Nothing useful. Looks like I’ll be doing that spell after all.”

*****

Locating the hellmouth with magic involves going into a trance and mentally reaching out to touch it. Connecting with it, in fact, and it’s simultaneously like plunging his hand into fire, bathing his body in ice, blocking his ears with glass and tickling his every atom until they jump and spin around.

The next thing Ethan is aware of, he’s panting on the library floor with Rupert shaking him by the shoulder. “Ethan? Ethan!”

“Rupert, what…” Ethan glances around. “Did I move about?”

“You were dragged” Rupert replies, looking thoroughly unnerved. “You were in the trance and something pulled you over here.”

“Oh. Then found it.” Ethan pats the library carpet.

“It’s under there?”

“Right beneath us” Suddenly, Ethan wants to move. He stands shakily and Rupert helps him to a chair, asking, “What did you sense?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s dormant anymore”

Rupert nods. “The others will need weapons. They’re in the cage.”

Ethan tries to blink the trance away. “The others are in the cage?”

“The weapons are in the cage” Rupert elaborates gently. “I sent the others out when you started to scream.”

“Oh” Ethan notices how sore his throat is and shudders. Rupert stands beside him and pulls him closer and it’s that – Rupert hugging him in his workplace, Rupert not frantically trying to research the threat – that has Ethan really scared. Much as he tells himself that the hellmouth has probably seen lots of near misses before, he can’t help but wonder if this is going to be the night the balance finally tips and evil swallows them up. And even hoping it won’t is tainted because that would mean Buffy would be dead.

Except that she’ll be dead either way, won’t she?

Except that Ethan – deep down in his squirming little soul – would rather Buffy be dead than him and Rupert.

When Rupert finally pulls away, he tells Ethan, “Go and join the others as soon as you can stand. I’ll give you some weapons to share around”

Rupert goes over to the cage and gathers up an axe and an armful of stakes, brings them back to the table and sets them down in front of Ethan. “If I can find you something to put them in, you can take some books out of harm’s way too…” Stepping into the office, he returns, shaking out a scrunched up plastic bag, a book jammed under each arm. Without thinking, Ethan reaches for the books and slips them into the bag when Rupert has it open. Only then does it occur to him that Rupert is talking like he won’t be joining him. “What about you?”

“I just need to see to something.” Not quite meeting his eye, Rupert heads back to the cage. Managing to stand after a deep breath and bracing himself against the table, Ethan follows. In a warning tone, he asks, “Rupert, what do you think you’re doing?

Brief guilt crinkles Rupert’s forehead. “There’s something I have to see to, love. You go and find the others.” Handing Ethan a few more blades he adds, “Make sure everyone has at least one weapon that isn’t a stake.”

“What about you? What are you doing?” “I’ll be right with you…I, err…”

Ethan feels something screech at the back of his mind. “With me after what? Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to do this.” Rupert selects a sword and, turning, actually side steps him. “I love you.”

“Bullshit” Ethan tails him. “You love me so much you’re going to throw yourself to the master?!”

“I’m aiming for a little better than throw myself but yes, that’s the idea.”

“Rupert –”

“Ethan, you and everyone else will die if I don’t do this!”

“It’s supposed to be Buffy! What good can you do against something the chosen one’s not expected to survive?”

“I have to try!”

Ethan blasts him with a sleeping spell. Catches him and the sword as his own knives scatter, and lowers him to the floor. Silence.

Then a too-young voice: “Thanks for that. I didn’t want to have to hit him.”

Ethan jumps. Janus knows how long the slayer has been standing there. He hopes he didn’t say anything that sounded like he thinks her completely disposable.

But then, the slayer is disposable. Buffy Summers isn’t.

In a display of heart-breaking teenage ineloquence, she tells him to invent her goodbye, so when Rupert wakes, Ethan is going to be ready with whatever will save the man he loves from crippling guilt.

Well, more crippling guilt.

Well, and save their relationship.

And, well, he would have been able to think of something by now, if the library floor could just stop making that disconcerting noise…

*****

“You could have been killed” Giles murmurs as he helps Ethan into bed.

“So could you” Ethan points out.

“I wasn’t binding the thing” Giles counters, pulling the covers over Ethan and stroking his hair.

Ethan closes his eyes, apparently savouring the touch, but he still argues, “No, you were just hacking at it with…was it an axe?”

“But I wasn’t binding it” repeats Giles, who is still shaken by the sight of the thing that emerged from the earth back in the library, let alone the sight of Ethan fainting with the effort of pushing it back in with magic. But if he hadn’t… “You saved Willow’s life” he tells his partner. “It had her around the waist.”

Ethan groans. “First Gregory, now Willow. I should be on the Council’s pay roll.”

Giles doesn’t answer, keeps stroking Ethan’s hair. Really, Ethan knows as well as he does that the Council don’t much care about the students and teachers of Sunnydale High. Collateral damage, from their long sighted, necessarily ruthless perspective, is inevitable. “I wish they’d stayed out of it” he murmurs, meaning out of the library, but, saying it, he realises it could just as easily apply to their awareness of the whole underworld. Better if it was just him and Buffy in danger.

And Ethan, who comes attached.

Buffy, who isn’t dead, and Giles still isn’t entirely clear as to why but is far too relieved to care. There’s tomorrow for questions. There’s still tomorrow.

Giles lays down beside Ethan and pulls him close. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start on season 2 this weekend, but while I've been editing stuff I've already written so far, I'll now be writing from scratch and trying to figure out how to steer this into more AU territory...


	15. Summer 1997

Beneath a twisted tree in a misty cemetery, three robed figures stand before an open grave. A third kneels, lowering a skull into the earth. Standing up, the figure speaks: “So, um. Why the robes?”

Giles shoots Xander a stern look. “It’s traditional.”

“Right and why stand in the way of tradition when it makes us all look this cool?”

“I think it’s fun” Willow tugs at her hood to keep it from slipping.

“It’s more than fun” Ethan tells her. “With a ritual like this, you never know if there’s a deeper reason for it that’s just been lost in time.”

“Quite” Giles agrees. “We wouldn’t want to find out the Master has some way of returning because we cut corners.”

“Right” says Xander “Embracing the robe”

“He won’t return, right?” asks Willow.

Giles frowns. “As far as I know, this ritual should put any end to any hope his followers may have of that.”

“Good.” There is genuine relief in the girl’s voice. “Is it magic?”

“Not strictly speaking. Just a very exacting ceremony.” Giles produces a vial of holy water from his coat pocket. “Shall we begin?”

*****

The water in the fountain twists in a manner that appears innocent unless one watches it for more than a few seconds. Jostling in mid-air it briefly takes the shape of a dancing girl before resembling first a leaping wolf and then a cloud of butterflies. The veneer of normality vanishes completely when Ethan turns it purple. Willow giggles. “You have to teach me that sometime” she says, and then laughs again as the water turns pink.

“We do have neighbours” Giles reminds them, setting down his paper.

“Of course” Ethan responds, “They don’t notice vampires but they’d notice colour-changing water.”

“Ethan” Giles lets just the faintest hint of a warning note into his voice. Not enough, apparently, because Ethan simply replies, “Rupert?”

Giles glares.

Possibly wanting to keep the peace, Willow says, “Okay, turn it back now”

Ethan rolls his eyes but the water goes clear. “That will be that for today then; next lesson when we get back.”

“I’m so jealous of you guys” says Willow. “I’d love to go to New York.”

“Don’t waste your jealousy on us – Jenny’s going to Burning Man”

Giles shakes his head at his partner. “Which is exactly the sort of event you always say you’ll enjoy and then you spend the whole time missing the comforts of home”

“Not the whole event – sometimes I just need a little liquid pick-me-up”

“You can get drunk anywhere”

Shy at the edges of their bickering, Willow says, “Burning Man or New York, I’ve never been anywhere. Well Vancouver once, when my dad had a conference, but I was too little to really appreciate the travel stuff”

“Give it time” Ethan tells her. “You’re what – sixteen?”

“Yep”

“So just a few years of school and then you can go wherever you like”

“No, a few years of school and then college. But I guess I could go to college wherever, if I get the grades.”

“You’ll get the grades”

“So long as you study” adds Giles, aware of how his own grades nosedived in his final year at Oxford as his interest in magic grew. To his relief Willow nods fervently. “Oh, I will”

“Good” says Ethan. “You can start with working out how I changed the water.”

“Ethan” Giles warns.

“What? It’s not like she’ll have to search the underworld – it’s in the book I lent her.”

“You’re giving me homework?” Willow is all smiles.

“That’s just the first part: the second part is, I want this water mauve by the time I get back” Catching Giles’ eye, Ethan adds, “and a glamour to hide it from the neighbours of course.”

“Will you grade me?”

“If you like”

“Ethan” Giles asks tiredly, “How does any of this train her in defensive spells?” Only the assurance that the spells taught would keep Willow safe persuaded Giles to allow this tutoring in their home.

“Well she needs some general knowledge of magic before she can specialise”

“I’m not sure tricks with the elements counts as basic general knowledge” counters Giles but he leaves the matter there. At least if they study here he has an idea what they’re up to. Besides, Willow renders any further qualm-voicing pointless by standing up and saying, “I’ve got to go – I’m meeting Oz at the movie theatre”

Ethan grins and tells her, “Have fun” and the two of them share a smile.

“I will. Bye, Giles”

“Goodbye, Willow. You’ll call us straight away if anything happens?”

“I will. And Buffy knows your hotel number, right?”

“That’s right. And Ethan’s, err, beeping contraption.”

“Pager” Ethan translates.

“Good” Willow smiles. “So we’re covered if anything mystical goes down. In the meantime, you guys have fun. And Giles? Try not to worry.”

*****

New York is everything Ethan hoped it would be, back when he was barely out his teens in seedy London pubs and boring Rupert with how he was going to visit one day. The chaos magic in him itches to give it all just the slightest push to see what happens and the rest of him simply relishes the onslaught of sights and sounds and of course Rupert would ruin it with, “I wonder if I ought to phone Willow tonight?”

“’Gods’ sake, Rupert! You keep calling her, her parents are going to start wondering why the school librarian’s spending his summer on the phone to their daughter.”

“Well, I can say she has an overdue book”

Ethan runs a hand through his hair, frowning at the warning twinge. The magic he worked the night Buffy defeated the Master was a bit of a stretch, and now his body is sporadically punishing him for it. If he’s going to be laid up tomorrow, he’s damn well going to enjoy today. He asks Rupert, “Exactly how many books is Willow supposed to have borrowed? No, not everyone’s as trusting as you, love. Some people find an adult faculty member on the phone to their daughter every other day of the school holidays somewhat alarming.”

“Right. I’ll phone Xander, then.”

“Assuming his phone’s been reconnected.”

“Damn.”

“Oh Rupert, just relax, why can’t you?”

“Because we’ve left the hellmouth unguarded.”

“Buffy’s only in L.A. If something big happens, Willow can ring her.” Ethan edges closer until his face is in Rupert’s hair. “Besides, a watcher’s only supposed to watch, isn’t he? If you wanted to spend your summers getting into fights, we shouldn’t have gone back to the council.”

Rupert gives him a sidelong look. “And none of this, of course, has anything to do with you wanting a holiday?”

“Of course not, Rupert, what do you take me for? Now, let’s go get some ice creams.”


	16. When she was Bad

“How’s Buffy?” Ethan asks over dinner.

Giles hides his surprise that Ethan thought to ask and replies, “A little…lost. She has to come to terms with her, well –”

“With her death?”

“Precisely”

“Well, as long as she doesn’t get you killed in the meantime.” Ethan surreptitiously taps the wooden dining table. Nothing like hellmouth living to inspire all sorts of pointless superstitions. Giles smiles at him. “Don’t worry about that; she still has her sense of duty. She’s just rattled by the whole thing.” And who could blame her? Buffy’s death was a reminder to all of them – Buffy included – of just how awful a hand fate has dealt her. Giles wishes he could offer comfort but it would be a lie. “She’ll be alright” he says, more to himself than Ethan.

*****

Willy’s Place is crowded and it isn’t until he’s all set to leave that Ethan realises that – unusually – he is not the only human present: Amy is sliding through a cluster of vampires, who leer at her in a way that is reminiscent of predatory humans, but is really just literal predator. Ethan waves her over and they lose interest: they are mostly used to him here and those who aren’t are scared away by the Strolak demon who appears to be sitting beside him, and who is in fact a carefully crafted illusion.

Amy smiles as she comes over, glancing appraisingly at the “Strolak” before sitting down opposite. “Cool trick” she nods to the illusion. “Is it a glamour?”

“Near enough” Ethan confirms. “Now, if I were a responsible citizen I’d ask what a girl your age is doing in a place like this.”

She pulls a face. “You won’t tell Mr Giles, will you?”

Ethan can’t help but smile at how scared all these teens seem to be of Rupert’s disapproval. These days, Rupert is a pussy cat. He replies, “Not unless I have to. Well?”

She shrugs. “I was trying to buy dragon hide. For a spell I’m trying.”

“Entrapment charms?” Ethan pauses with his beer half way to his lips. “That’s a little much for a child isn’t it? What’re you trying to trap?”

She seems to bristle. “Only a Sorrow-feeder.”

“In what?”

“A thrice blessed diamond. The diamond was my mom’s; I got it blessed myself.”

“And checked it for hexes first? Because we know what your dear, departed mum was capable of.”

“It’s clean” she says coolly. She has a drink of her own and sips at it, looking around. “I’m not about to get screwed by that woman again.” Looking back at him, she asks, with a little less trepidation this time, “So are you going to tell Mr Giles?”

“I could, but I don’t think he could stop you, could he?”

“I mean about me being at a bar.”

“Goodness, dear: if you think that’s the concern, I’m not sure you’re ready for this spell.”

“Well good news for you, they won’t sell me any anyway.” Amy rolls her eyes. “Said they don’t have any in.”

“That’s probably true. Dragons are the pandas of the demon world, you know.”

“Right”

“Look, forget this place: give me a few weeks and come by my shop.”

She looks dubious. “The costume place?”

“I have a side line. It could save you risking your own hide here”

“Well you’re drinking here.”

“I’m a little past the age they tend to want to turn. I’d have been more careful at your age.” Or not, but he’d been luckier. Especially, Ethan reflects, since he was much prettier than Amy at sixteen. Actually, plenty of vampires had tried to make those looks last forever, but Rupert’s watcher training had had its uses, even then. He adds, “But I’d want a look at this diamond myself. Make sure it’s safe.”

Another eye roll. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Well, so do I, and I’ve been doing it longer.” Ethan finishes his drink. “So?”

“Sure. Your store has less of a creep factor at least.”

“I should think so” Ethan stands. “Can I see you out?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll cast a glamour ’til I’m ready to go. Like I said: I know what I’m doing.”

Ethan shrugs, dispels his illusion and heads outside. He barely has time to shut the door before he’s grabbed.

*****

“Fuck” Ethan eases himself onto the couch some hours later. His gaze drifts to Rupert, who is doing the same. “You know, somewhat ironically I was recalling how good you used to be at rescuing me just before I got nabbed.”   

“Well I was hanging upside down as well” Rupert points out. “Otherwise I’d have a go at a rescue attempt.”

“Maybe you should ask the watchers to send a replacement? Give someone younger a turn if you can’t even avoid being captured.”

“Can I remind you, you were captured as well?”

“I was on my own! And I don’t have watcher training.”

“Well, in my defence, the whole thing was very unexpected. Certainly I wasn’t aware of any spells that could bring back the Master.”

“Oh, I doubt it would have worked – we’d have bled out for nothing.”

“Better than bleeding out to bring the Master back.”

“I don’t know. At least then we’d have been part of a successful spell.”

“You always did have a perverse way of looking at these things.”

Ethan shrugs. “Well. Thank Gods your slayer came to her senses when she did.”


	17. Some Assembly Required

“Come on, Ethan” Jenny smiles winningly at him from the other side of the counter. “Don’t you want to experience some American culture?”

“Not especially” Ethan packs her order of protection charms and hands it over. “You’ll have to have these catching the light at dawn for the best results.”

“Thanks” She slips a hand in her purse. “I was starting to think I’d just have to update the antivirus software yet again. As soon as I mentioned to the guy in the Magic Box that it was for a PC, he looked at me like I was invoking Satanus.”

Ethan grins as he takes the money she hands over and adds it to the till, prints her receipt. “He’ll have to watch that. Magic likes change.”

Jenny shrugs. “Well Chaos magic does. So, I can’t tempt you to join me at the game? It’d be a change.”

“Touché” replies Ethan, who has only a hazy idea of what the phrase means in real English, but who likes using it. “But no. It’d take pretty powerful magic to render me remotely interested in sports.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Sorry, Jenny. If the future survival of the human race depended on my sitting through a school sporting event, you’d probably still be disappointed.”

“What about Rupert? Is he as snobby about our national pastimes as you?”

“Oh, and then some. He used to play rugby at uni so – oh, hold that thought.” He plucks up the ringing phone.

Of course it’s Rupert wanting him to help dig up corpses. Because of course it is. Lucky for Rupert and his gang of teens, Ethan happens to know a spell for the occasion, or it might have been a back-breaking evening.

“So…Someone invented a spell to make coffins pop out of graves?” Xander asks as they stand around the cemetery watching Ethan set up. “Can I just say ew?”

“It is very disturbing” agrees Oz, though he looks unruffled.

“To be fair” Rupert tells them as he helps lay out a few mouse bones and dove feathers, “It was probably invented to search for buried treasure.”

“Oh in that case” amends Xander “sign me up. All this old crap buried around town; some of it’s got to be valuable.”

Ethan catches the fascination on Willow’s face as she watches him light the candles and wishes he’d let her set up. After New York they’d returned to undeniably mauve water dancing in the fountain and the neighbours none the wiser. The girl is all set to be a great witch.

The spell affects a few surrounding graves, rattling a few of those somehow resting in peace in the sandy layer between hellmouth and surface. But only the targeted coffin emerges, pulsing eerily from the swarming soil. Buffy gives Ethan a sidelong look. “This is way creepier than just digging it up.”

“But a lot less effort.”

“Not for me – I was going to make Giles do it.”

“Touché”

“Ethan” mutters Rupert, bending over the coffin. “Don’t talk like an American.”

“Sorry, love” replies Ethan, just as Buffy lets out an indignant, “Hey!”

“You are American” Rupert tells her. “So we can forbear. Could you, um…” He gestures to the coffin.

“Huh” Xander comments. “So Mr Don’t Talk Like An American needs an American to open the coffin.”

“Well, she does have super strength.”

“And you have a crow bar.”

“You want the crow bar? Be my guest.”

Xander backs away. “No way, I’m not prising open a coffin!”

Willow pipes up, “Maybe there’s a spell that’ll do it?”

Ethan considers. “Well, I might be able to blast it apart…”

Xander looks scandalised. “And get dead person all over us?”

Willow shrugs. “If there is a dead person”

Oz comments, “I’d like us to err on the side of dead person”

Ethan asks, “There might not be a dead person?”

“Well why do you think we’re digging up the coffin?” Rupert asks.

“I thought given we’re _digging up a coffin_ it was best not to ask questions!”

Rupert shakes his head. “So, after two decades together it turns out you wouldn’t have stood in the way of my graverobbing career.”

Willow says, “That’s kinda romantic” before catching Buffy’s eye and adding, “Or not”

“We’re checking for a body” Rupert explains. “No body could mean zombies and if the body’s in there we’re looking for a flesh eating demon.”

Xander adds, “In other words, standard Sunnydale hijinks.”

“Screwed either way?” Ethan surmises.

“You betcha.” Xander reaches for the crowbar. “And I vote no exploding coffins, so let’s crack this thing open and…on second thoughts, Buffy, why don’t you…”

Buffy rolls her eyes, snatches the crowbar from him and opens the lid.

*****

“Well that was unpleasant” Ethan says when the whole thing is resolved. “Even by this town’s standards.” They cross an empty street, more alert than they would be in such a quiet area at home. The sounds of sirens are distant now.

“Poor Cordelia” muses Giles. “That’s the second time she’s been bound and gagged in as many weeks.”

“She seems to take it in her self-absorbed stride.”

Giles gives him a stern look. “It’s very fortunate that Jenny and Stephen were at the game or we might not have been in time to save her.”

“And then I’d miss her terribly, I know.”

“You would?”

“Don’t sound too surprised: I think she might be my favourite in your little group. After Willow, of course.”

Giles feels an almost fatherly offence that Buffy isn’t higher up the list but he quashes it: Buffy is his slayer, after all, not Ethan’s. Really, he’s just lucky his partner and his slayer generally get along. He replies, “She’s not really in my little group. And you did just call her self absorbed.”

“I never said that was a bad thing” Ethan retorts. “Especially in this town.” 

Actually, Giles reflects, it may be a point that in Sunnydale, it's better to be selfish than constantly in danger like his own charges. Perhaps Cordelia's disdain for them is in fact self-preservation. Regardless: she is safe, so he can put her out of his mind. Put them all out of his mind, in fact, and put his arm around Ethan for the walk home. 


	18. School Hard

When Ethan gets home from a late night at the shop – he had to see a Hanol about a dragon – Rupert still isn’t home from parent-teacher night. In any other town, Ethan would roll his eyes and congratulate himself on not working in a school. In Sunnydale, he swears and spins around to head straight back out again – and then Rupert opens the door.

“Where were you?” Ethan demands.

Rupert simply replies, “Vampires” and brushes past him to put the kettle on.

*****

“Anything?” Giles asks as soon as Ethan steps through the door.

“Why, no, Rupert, I wasn’t mauled by demons, thanks so much for your concern.”

“You’re the one that made the damn place your local.”

“And you’re the one who wanted me to go there to ask questions.”

“Did you get any answers?”

Ethan shakes his head. “Nothing useful. They’ve been out and about, not just sending their minions out for food.” He sits on the stool by the kitchen counter. “Killed a homeless man. Tea would be appreciated by the way.”

Giles heads round to the kettle, digesting this information. “They? Who’s with him?”

“His girlfriend. Insane psychic called something complicated. Demelza? Desdemona? Something long beginning with D.”

“Drusilla?”

“That’s the one.”

“I thought she was dead.”

“Not according to Marvin. Who is all set to go and join them, by the way.” Ethan scowls and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry. How sad for you that your favourite barman is leaving for pastures bloodstained.”

“He’ll never go through with it. Wait ’til he gets a big tip at the flop house, he’ll be a changed vamp.”

“Are others joining them?” Giles sets Ethan’s tea on the counter and pulls up a stool of his own.

“Seems that way, and they’ve put out that they’re hiring. Only so many minions they could have inherited from the anointed one, after that reunion bashing your slayer gave them.”

“I imagine she’s had an impact on their numbers, yes.” Giles smiles proudly. Then registers, “ _Inherited_ from the anointed one?”

Ethan nods. “Yep: he’s dead. More so than usual.”

“That’s a relief. I think Buffy was dreading having to slay something child-shaped.”

“Well, Spike didn’t have those qualms.”

“I don’t doubt it. Was there any mention of Buffy?”

“Rumours that he’s all set to kill her but we knew that already.”

Giles nods. Even without the demonstration of his hand to hand prowess at parent-teacher night, William the Bloody’s determination to target Buffy is concerning. The Master was at least predictable. This foe is decidedly not, with accounts varying wildly in all regards except one: he is dangerous. “Thank you for going, Ethan. I imagine the atmosphere there is a little tense under the circumstances.”

Ethan inclines his head in acknowledgement but replies, “I’m alright. They’re mostly just overexcited. It’s not a bad atmosphere actually. More charged and interesting than when they just talked about the Master all the time.”

Finding his voice dropping by a few degrees, Giles replies, “Before you enthuse too much, do try to remember that this vampire plans to kill Buffy.”

Ethan shrugs. “The way I see it is he got lucky twice and now he’s convinced himself he can get a hat trick. It doesn’t mean he can. He’s just a vampire.”

“Yes, thank you for talking about murdered slayers in football terms.” Rupert pulls off his glasses and polishes them.

“What I’m saying is, it won’t happen. Buffy’s too good.”

“She is good.” Giles acknowledges. Good despite her limited training, or perhaps because of it – because she’s trained entirely in the field. And the longer she survives, of course, the better she gets.

But he can’t get complacent. Buffy won’t always be semi-miraculously revived.

Apparently sensing the sombre turn of his mood, Ethan says, “Look, Rupert, try not to worry.”

“It’s a little late for that: I’ve been worried about her since our plane landed.”


	19. Inca Mummy Girl

“So why the moping?”

Willow looks aggrieved. “I’m not moping.”

“You are, and you’re doing it in my shop.”

“Sorry, Ethan. I’ll –”

“Stay” Ethan catches her chair as she pushes away from the table and slides it back into place. So easy to forget how mercurial these teenagers are; he could swear Willow was in a good mood when he saw her last. He hands her his newly purchased roll of dragon hide. “You could make yourself useful and de-scale this”

Willow looks doubtful but she takes it, and watches Ethan’s quick demonstration closely. As he stands up again, Ethan asks, “So where are the others?”

Willow scrapes at the hide, letting the scales flitter into a mask she turns face down on the table. “Oz has band practice, Buffy has an ancient mummy thing and Xander’s out flirting with her exchange student.”

So that’s the problem. How dull. Ethan rescues the mask and replaces it with a clay dish. “Here. Don’t want to lose these. So what’s the problem? I thought you and Oz are all loved up?”

“We are.” Willow assures him quickly. “And I want Xander to be happy, I do. It’s just…Does he have to be happy in front of me?” She pulls a face. “I sound like a terrible person, don’t I?”

“No, you sound like a person with a normal inability to sort out her feelings for a lifelong friend who she fancies due to terrible taste.”

“It’s not bad taste to like Xander” Willow argues, but Ethan’s gotten a smile out of her.

“He’s too immature for you.”

“He has hidden depths.”

“Very hidden. You want someone not embarrassed to have a brain, like Oz.”

“I know that” Willow plucks at the hide. “It’s just that after years of mooning over Xander, it’s kind of tough to see him making googly eyes back with someone he’s just met.”

“You were all prepared to magic him up a girlfriend for prom” Ethan points out.

“That’s different. She’d be magic.”

Because she’d be an actually not possible magic, Ethan decides he need not trouble to untangle that logic. He tries, “The exchange students go home soon, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but they could still keep in touch.”

“What, spend hours composing love notes with all the Xander-friendly writing that entails?”

“Okay, maybe not. But they could call and stuff.” Willow shrugs, tapping a little flurry of scales into the bowl. “I guess that wouldn’t be too bad.”

“Because you have Oz.”

“Because I have Oz, and he’s the best. I mean, not better than Xander, but different. I mean, I love them differently.”

“Well then.”

“I just wish Xander wasn’t so all over this girl! It’s hardly sensitive to former crush-havers.” Willow smiles briefly. “Okay, hearing myself and shutting up now. Sorry Ethan.”

“Not at all. Let me know if you’re going to cry, by the way: virgin tears are surprisingly hard to come by.”

Willow actually laughs at that. Judging her sufficiently cheered up, Ethan asks, “So will you and Oz be sporting couples’ costumes for this dance?”

“No; he has to play.  Unless Buffy’s done with slayer stuff by then, I’ll be enjoying my front row seat for Xander and Ampata’s public display.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Or letting them be dull and enjoying yourself.”

“With who, Cordelia?”

“With anyone.” Ethan sighs. No point telling her everyone else is just as shy and awkward as her: she’s a teenager and therefore psychologically incapable of taking that in. He tries, “What are you wearing, at least?”

“I’m gonna buy the Eskimo suit.” Willow points to the item in question.

Ethan eyes the thing. “Are you sure? It’s not exactly going to show off your...” he checks himself: she may be legal in London but here she’s a minor and a student at the school Rupert works at. “Features” he finishes diplomatically.

Willow frowns. “Well I won’t wear it with the hood up. The whole time.”

“Won’t you get hot?”

“They have AC.”

Ethan shrugs. It’s her evening to spend moping in an oversized hood if that’s what she wants to do; no point trying to talk her out of it.

Besides, the Eskimo costume is expensive.


	20. Reptile Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 2 episode five Reptile Boy, by David Greenwalt.

With Halloween on the way, there’s preparations to be made at the shop, and Rupert promised to help and then walk Ethan home, it being dark and a hellmouth. So, naturally, Rupert turned up with Willow in research mode, and was quickly joined by Angel.  Alone on the shop floor, Ethan unpacks an order, carefully unfolding and checking a series of Halloween costumes before heading to the back room to see what’s so urgent.

The computer screen is once again peopled by missing teens. All girls this time. “South wall” Willow is saying, “That’s near the fraternity house!”

Angel asks, “Could they be taking these girls?”

“Wait” puts in Ethan, “Fraternities are evil? Who knew?”

Rupert scowls at him. “Ethan, if you don’t have anything useful to say…oh never mind. Come with us – we’d better get over there.”

But Ethan is watching Willow as she stands up from the computer, twisting her hands together in obvious guilt or worry. He asks, “Something wrong?”

“Well…well, see, the thing is…Buffy’s there. At the Zeta Kappa house. Cordelia too.”

The three men stare at her. Willow adds, “For a party. Okay, let’s go!”

Rupert ignores her attempt to lead the charge and asks, “She lied to me?” almost the same moment that Angel asks, “Did she have a date?”

“Yes” Ethan rolls his eyes. “Because that’s the thing to focus on. Look, should I phone the police? These men are human.”

“No” Rupert replies. “In this town, there’s every chance the supernatural will be involved somehow and they’re not equipped for that.” He heads to the door, adding, “No, we should go over there ourselves to rescue Buffy. And on the way I can think of a suitable punishment.”

“Punishment?” Willow follows, “Don’t you think being kidnapped is punishment enough? And why do think she even went to that party? Because you never let her do anything but work and patrol! I know she’s the chosen one, but you’re killing her with the pressure. I mean, she’s sixteen going on forty!”

“That’s not quite true” Ethan feels obliged to stand up for his lover. “He lets her moon over Angel.”

Angel turns to him. “She moons over me?”

“Ethan” Willow makes a little hushing gesture. “Anyway, she can moon over whoever she likes, whatever Giles says.”

“I am standing right here, Willow. And as her watcher –” Rupert looks properly at Willow and seems to re-evaluate whatever he was going to say. “Oh, come on, let’s go.” He hurries out the building and Ethan follows. Behind them, he can hear Willow starting on Angel: “And you! You’re going to live forever – you don’t have time for a cup of coffee?”


	21. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 2 episode 6, Halloween, by Carl Ellsworth.

Amid the merry chaos of Halloween shoppers, Ethan finds four familiar but unlikely faces. “Hello you lot. I thought you’d be having a movie night or something.”

“Me too” Buffy replies. “We’ve been volunteered by Snyder to take some kids out.”

“Ah. So you’re putting your outfits together last minute, then: any ideas?”

Buffy turns to the pink dress beside her. “This is the one I’ve always wanted” Her hand trails the satiny length of it. Willow nods. “It’s great, Buffy.”

“Very pink” adds Oz.

“Final choice?” asks Ethan, and Buffy looks fleetingly guilty and replies, “Oh, thanks, but there’s no way I could afford this, even with my discount.”

“You could always just go commando with me” says Xander.

“Xander!”

“What? I’m going to be a commando and all it costs me is two dollars for this” he waves a toy gun. Willow rolls her eyes. “Right. Hey, Ethan, do you have any couple costumes? We were thinking Beatrice and Benedick.”

“I’ve got Romeo and Juliet. No-one will know the difference.”

“Right; we’ll just try for witty over tragic” Willow nods. Oz adds, “And that’s all in the eyes.”

Nodding to the dress, Ethan asks, “Buffy, what if you paid for that in instalments?”

Buffy stares at him. “Tiny instalments, right? Over a really long period of time?”

“You can be indebted for life if you like.”

Smiling widely, she briefly looks her true age; little more than a child and allowed the princess dress. “Thank you, Ethan! Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You won’t be the first person I’ve had indebted for life” Ethan relents with, “Truth be told, I can’t shift the thing and it’s taking up space.” And a happy slayer means a happy Rupert.

*****

Inevitably, they faff a little longer before Buffy actually brings the dress – carefully unhooked from the mannequin by Ethan before he had to deal with another of the zillion or so customers in here – to the till. She asks him, “Have you got a moment?” and, seeing him glance around at the crowded shop, adds, “literally a moment.”

“All right; make it literal” Stepping from behind the till, Ethan follows her to the backroom, where Willow waits, arms folded. Buffy turns to him. “You know that spell you did on our ancient Greek costumes? Could you do one on the dress?”

Instinctively feigning innocence, Ethan replies, “What makes you think I did a spell on the costumes?”

“The fact it wasn’t Willow” Buffy glances at her friend. “And the fact we are in no way good actors. Oh, and the little matter of _we can all now speak ancient Greek_.”

“Really?” Ethan is a little perturbed. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“Oh, it’s fine” Willow reassures him. “It’s useful around Giles’ books and the spell meant I didn’t puke or faint on stage, so two better than I was expecting.”

“You would have been fine” Ethan tells her. Turning to Buffy, he asks, “Why on earth do you want that dress personified? It’s not even based on a specific era or culture. Unless you count rip-off Disney as a culture. What would it even be personified to be?”

“Well” Buffy tries, “I was thinking I could have some ladylike knowledge from some ye old timey era. Say two hundred years ago.”

“Georgian?” Ethan frowns. “What on earth do you want to be a Georgian for? Just fancy a holiday from yourself and into a version of yourself that likes a good public hanging?”

“No” Willow replies, “She just wants a version of herself who knows how to curtsey and simper”

Buffy pouts. “It’s not that bad. I just want Angel to see I can coiffe with the best of them.”

Willow rolls her eyes. “Buffy, you realise plenty of women back then were running their own businesses and writing novels and wishing they didn’t have to curtsey?”

“It’s just one night! Just to show Angel I can have some grace and poise.”

Actually, she has plenty of both already, but Ethan has enough mentoring to do keeping Willow vaguely self-assured without tackling Buffy’s self-esteem issues on top of that. Besides, it’s quicker and easier to simply answer, “Of course. Drop by tonight before you head out.”

*****

Chaos magic being what it is, the casting affects the dress a little differently than it had the Greek-style tunic. Buffy seems slightly dazed as Willow – for once not enthusiastic about a freshly cast spell – takes her arm and steers her out the door, and Ethan is left wondering if this wasn’t a little rash. Lucky it’s Halloween: the worst she’ll face tonight is a sugar rush.

Once the girls are gone Ethan makes some final alterations to the symbols he’s carefully painted onto the now threadbare dragon hide and awaits Amy’s arrival.

She steps through the door just as the first shrieks of trick-or-treaters reverberate down the street. Ethan nods to the sign on the door: “Turn that to closed, could you? We don’t need people wanting adjustments walking in here.”

“Right” She twists the sign round before heading over to the till. “We’re doing it here?”

“I don’t want it put off by the shrine in the backroom” Ethan explains. “Sorrow-feeders tend to avoid religious paraphernalia; it makes people too relaxed for their tastes.”  The symbols finished, he steps out from behind the counter and pulls the blinds down, then kneels in the centre of the shop to spread the hide on the floor. Watching him, Amy comments, “It’s tiny”

“It’s not a whole hide. We only need a piece.”

“Right” she shrugs. “I just thought it was baby or something.” Reaching into the bag she’s carrying, she pulls out a wad of notes and places them on the till. “There. This had better be worth it: I had to sell a load of the hag’s jewellery to get this.”

Ethan gets to his feet to count it, instructing her, “Lay out the candles in a semicircle and let’s see this diamond.” The agreed amount is all here, including his fee for overseeing the venture. Apparently the girl is less reckless than she seemed in Willy’s Place, or she’d have bought the last of her ingredients there and done this at home for half the price.

The diamond turns out to be modest, and set into a ring. Could be an engagement ring, in fact, but Ethan doesn’t ask.

Once everything is arranged on the floor, they sit opposite each other, cross legged, and join hands.

It’s a simple spell, but effective, so long as a Sorrow-feeder can actually be lured to the premises. Surely there are plenty of them around the hellmouth.

They start with the chant, carefully researched by Amy and half-familiar from years ago to Ethan. Next, they dab symbols on their foreheads, a point in proceedings where having an extra person around is useful, given these things don’t like mirrors and the symbols have to be exact. Wouldn’t want to attract the wrong thing. Finally, with a little encouragement from the headrush that comes with a quick exchange of magic, they slip into the bulk of the casting: the trance. This is intended as a siren-call and requires them to work up a good melancholy, laying out their pain like a buffet for the incorporeal demon hopefully already drifting closer.

It is a time consuming process and not particularly pleasant.  For Ethan, it starts out like a being lost in a blizzard: cold and with a sense of endless empty space around him, and the emptiness is somehow attacking, pressing down. Distantly, he is aware of reality: Amy’s hands in his, the floor, the empty shop. Then lightning flashes of memory best not examined interrupt the chill inside his skull and he tries to grasp at them and embrace the pain. Amy’s grip on his hands increases as she enters her own pain.

Finally, after far too long chasing down unhappiness, they suddenly snap out of it with a sensation of tilting forwards, though of course they haven’t moved. The diamond is glowing blue and Amy sucks in a breath. “We got one!”

Ethan grins though he doesn’t feel particularly exuberant after that trance. “We did indeed. Decent sized one by the looks of it.”

“Wow” Amy breathes, and for a moment she is as wide-eyed enthusiastic as Willow. That thought has Ethan smiling more genuinely as he asks, “What are you going to do with it, by the way?”

“Oh, I hadn’t even thought that far: I just figured I’d see if I can catch it. Maybe now I’ve done it here I’ll see if I do it solo. Will the dragon skin work again?”

“Worth a try.” Ethan gets to his feet. “If you’ve not got anything in mind for this Sorrow-feeder, would you consider selling it? I could give you some of that cash back.”

“I guess” Amy stands up, scooping up the ring. “What would you use it for?”

Ethan shrugs. “Sell it on.” Bound to be some customer in Willy’s Place who’ll consider it a delicacy. Some spells he could do with it as well, but all of them a shade of dark he turned his back on long ago.

“How much are you offeri –” Amy stops talking and stares at the ring in her hand. Frowning, Ethan steps over to see what’s looking at.

The ring is trembling. The blue light that was constant is now flickering like something’s pacing in there.

“I don’t understand” says Amy. “There’s no spell on this ring: I checked.”

“Then what…” Ethan takes a step back, a horrible thought occurring. “Amy, that is a real diamond, isn’t it?”

Amy pales. “Yeah, of course. I mean, I think…Oh crap.”

“Yes, well said.”

“What do we do?” The hand holding the ring is shaking now. Before Ethan can form the word _run_ , the blue light expands, the ring melts and a cold, unnatural breeze swirls around them.

*****

Halloween being the one time of year he doesn’t have to think about the supernatural, Giles is less than enthusiastic about having trick-or-treaters knocking on the door. Thankfully Ethan left a bowl of unidentifiable American sweets by the door, so Giles doesn’t have to faff about finding something to give them.

Treats thus dispensed to a crowd of eager children and a disarmingly in-character Buffy, he returns to the sofa and flicks through channels searching for something that doesn’t remind him of work.

Bloody Ethan, banishing most of his books to the school library on the grounds that they need to spend quality time together, and then working late on the one night of the year Giles is certain to have off. Typical of the man. Briefly, Giles thinks about calling him but checks himself: he doesn’t want to disturb him.

*****

Disturbingly, Ethan finds he can do nothing as the Sorrow demon feeds, able only to lie prone on the floor as it becomes corporeal. Groaning beside him, Amy mutters, “What’s it doing?”

Ethan tilts his head back to get a better view of it. “It’s shaping itself a body out of our sorrow.”

“Right” Amy’s eyes close. She looks young like that, Ethan notes, her face peaceful and her hair fanned out. Is young. After forty plus years on earth, you’d think he’d have accumulated more sorrow than this slip of a girl, but no, Ethan thinks, twisting his head to view the demon again: it looks like a good mix of the two. Amy’s mother with Randall’s eyes, wearing Ethan’s mother’s Sunday best. As he watches, its skin peels and its eyes glow green. Eyghon. Still. How depressing.

Except he doesn’t feel depressed. All the sadness has been sucked out along with his strength, leaving him woozy and not a little light-hearted. Ethan looks away and wriggles slightly, but, finding he can’t stand, quickly gives up. “Not a bad way to go, this”

“Hm? No. No it’s not. I feel all…” Amy gestures with a languid hand. “All carefree. Which is weird considering it’s going to kill us.”

“Yes. But it’s making us so comfortable first.”

“Yeah, I kind of like it.” Amy’s eyes flutter open. “It’ll eat us, right?”

Ethan nods. “Starting with our hearts. But only when we’re well into a stupor.”

“Maybe I should banish it before it can.”

“But then we’ll get all our sorrow back.” A small part of Ethan agrees with Amy but it’s only a small part, distant and disconnected.

“Yeah, that’d suck.” Nevertheless, Amy struggles to rise and barely shifts herself to her elbows, falls back again. “Ow…oh the pain’s gone.”

Ethan waves a hand carelessly at the rapidly solidifying demon. “They should have these in hospitals.”

“Yeah. That’d be nice. I should have one at home.”

“Me and Rupert should get one as a pet.” Thinking of Rupert, Ethan feels a pang which is quickly slurped up by the demon, leaving him giddy. “I love Rupert. He’s my favourite person.”

“That’s sweet. You should tell him that. Before we get eaten, I mean.”

“Yes…I could…I could phone” Ethan tries again to sit and falls back, smacking his head against the floor. Searing pain is quickly stolen away, leaving a mindless but pleasant sort of contentment. “Maybe later.”

“Yeah” Amy murmurs, “you do that. I’m going to take a nap, okay?”

*****

“Happy Hal – oh. Angel. Is something wrong?”

The vampire stares morosely at Giles and replies, “Have you seen Buffy?”

“Yes, she was here with a group of trick-or-treaters. Has something happened?” Surely not on Halloween?

“Not exactly. Can I come in?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, come in” Going against all his training, Giles steps aside to let the vampire enter.

Stepping inside, Angel turns to him and asks, “How was Buffy when you saw her?”

“Quiet” Giles admits, “and very much taken with her role of…well, I rather think she was trying for put-upon-governess.”

Angel shakes his head dismissively. “That’s not a governess dress. But noble women sure acted put upon when if the wet nurse got sick.”

“I’m sure she’s not particularly interested in historical accuracy.”

“Actually I’d say she is. She was using words I didn’t realise Buffy even knows.” He frowns. “I think she was trying to impress me.”

“I’ve no doubt dating someone so much older is, erm, daunting” Giles ventures. He may be keeping Buffy’s relationship with Angel from the Council to allow his slayer a bit of happiness, but he isn’t sure how comfortable he is giving them relationship advice.

Angel mutters, “I hated the women back then.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure that in such a patriarchal society your suffering was great, but I’m not really sure what I can –”

“Is there any way Ethan did a spell? I don’t think this is just acting.”

Ah. Of course: he should have seen it. “He knows better than that.” Giles assures the vampire, judging it best to deal with his cad of a partner himself.

“It’s just – normally I’d let her have her fun – but I picked up on Spike’s scent in town. Lost it near the Bronze, but it’s fresh. I think he’s in town.”

“Good Lord. You think he’d attack tonight?”

“I’ve heard Drusilla’s sick. He might want the slayer out the way. I’m not certain he’ll stick to tradition this year.” The vampire rolls his eyes, “Not that he’s ever been great with tradition.”

Deciding he most definitely does not want the vampire to elaborate on that, Giles sighs. “In that case, I have to admit I’m not actually sure Ethan will stick to the tradition of at least trying not to bollocks things up either. You go find Buffy; I’ll deal with him.”

*****

“Amy” Motionless now, Ethan manages with some effort to project his voice to a whisper. “I’m sorry about getting you killed.”

“Oh that’s okay” the girl murmurs. “It was my idea.”

“But I’m the responsible adult.” Ethan argues, then frowns. “I’m the adult.”

“’Sokay, Ethan. Really. But you gotta let me go to sleep.”

“Good idea. Sleep is a good idea” Ethan feels himself drift. The demon has its decidedly corporeal hands on both their foreheads now, and Ethan can feel a sort of gurgling sensation throughout his fogged head, as it clears out the last of his sadness. It’s cold here on the floor. Peaceful and cold, like lying down in the woods as snow falls.

Out of nowhere – and nowhere is exactly where his thoughts are right now – he remembers a snowy day with Rupert and Randall, having a vicious, unequal snowball fight before giving into sentimentalism and building a snowman. Or at least, he and Randall had; Ripper had watched, and mocked, and nonetheless been ready with a hat when they’d wanted to dress the thing.

Ethan hasn’t thought about that for twenty years, deliberately. But all the sadness it was tethered too is gone now. He’ll stay in the memory, he decides, as the demon feeds. Which won’t be long now. Best to sleep…

The demon screams. Ethan’s eyes snap open.

Tilting his head back, he sees blue blood erupt from the creature’s mouth as a knife pokes through its chest. That, with it looking the way it does, like Randall and his mother and Eyghon, has Ethan sitting bolt upright and gagging.

“Fuck!” Amy scrambles to her knees beside him. Twisting, Ethan watches the demon fall, readying himself to explain all this to Rupert –

But the knife-wielding person behind the demon is not Rupert.

She is tall and pale, red-lipped – red from lipstick, Ethan is relieved to note. But there’s no doubt she’s a vampire. Smiling down at them, she says, “Hello, dears. We’re going to have a tea party.”

*****

“Well” says Ethan, easing himself into his desk chair, “this is cosy”

The vampire woman seated in his second chair smiles wolfishly and sips her tea. After that blasted Sorrow-feeder, tea is very necessary. Ethan’s head throbs from its encounter with the floor and his mood is soured from the sudden rush of bad memories back into his mind, even aside from the souring of mood that comes from being held captive by a vampire.

Not that the vampire looks all that much better off: she sags in her chair and gratefully inhales the tea. Noticing his eyes on her, she remarks, “My boy didn’t want me to come. But I needed a tea party.”

“Happy to oblige” Ethan manages.

“Oh God” mutters Amy from the crate she’s sat on, “This is seriously messed up.” She eyes the vampire’s lackeys who, having dragged them in here, are lent in the doorway, the backroom being a little small for five.

Still cold, Ethan is grateful the candles are lit around the shrine. If he could just get warm again, perhaps he could persuade his muscles to co-operate enough to run. Though how he’s supposed to get past the minions he doesn’t know. He asks, “I take it you didn’t just wander in here looking for a snack?”

She shakes her head and wags a finger, still enjoying her tea. “Came to find the magic. Came to tip the balance.”

“I see” replies Ethan politely, though he doesn’t. “And you are?”

“I’m wanting to snuff it out see, let the light in. It’s all steel and iron where she is, all closed, but you could make it soft and pink like lamb with their skin peeled back. Like rabbits on the split.” She takes another sip. “The gypsies roasted rabbits over the fire like that. Helpless little beasties. Easy to kill. Not like her.”

Her. Buffy? “She’s not here.”

A dark red smile. “But she was. Came here to get split and reshaped, all done up in pink with her head full of stories for my Angel.”

“What the hell’s she talking about?” Amy sighs. Ethan ignores her. He replies, “If something’s happened to the slayer, what makes you think I had anything to do with it?”

Ignoring him, the vampire adds, “But it’s all of a flutter; trembling scales, fight and flight. A killer and a princess.” Setting her cup aside she leans forward to grasp Ethan’s hand “Tip the balance for me. Make her weak – and then my Spike can have his wicked way.”

Inwardly, Ethan groans. “You’re Drusilla.”

Another red smile. “Halloween’s all masks and ball gowns. You’ve changed it all.”

“What do you know already?” asks Ethan guardedly, stalling for time. It felt like hours the Sorrow-feeder was leeching off them; must be nearly time for good little trick-or-treaters to be tucked up in bed. If he can stall, perhaps Buffy can get home before he’s forced to alter the spell.

Drawing himself up in his chair, he says, “So: you want me to change the spell so she’s all princess, no slayer.”

Drusilla nods, “And then we can have a party.”

“That will take some doing. I’ll need to charge for my time.”

“I can give you Miss Edith. She wants a new home: doesn’t like the dark.” A doll is produced from within the folds of her dress and Amy groans, “Yeah because we needed more creep factor. Ethan, next time I do a spell, I’m just going to Willy’s.”

Drusilla shushes her and asks Ethan, “Don’t you like her?”

“She’s very…err. But I was thinking money.”

“Money?” Amy laughs bitterly. “Maybe if we’re really lucky she won’t kill us both!”

Drusilla nods approvingly at her before turning a stern gaze back on Ethan. “I’ll not spend my evening bartering with Chaos’ whelp. That would spoil all my fun.” Then she closes her eyes and sways a little in her seat. “Spike’s close to her now. Closing in.” Opening her eyes, she reiterates, “Tip the balance.”

A crash sounds all of a sudden, and, by the door, the air hisses as one of the minions is dusted. Stepping through the falling dust, Rupert smashes a bottle of holy water over the head of the second minion, who snarls and thrashes, as Drusilla, fangs out and eyes yellowed, gets to her feet. As the minion recovers enough to throw punches, Drusilla steps towards the fray and then pivots, grabs Ethan by the throat. “Rupert!” he yelps and Rupert freezes, stake raised over the lackey’s back.

It’s an unequal stand off, Ethan notes: Drusilla doesn’t give a fig about the lackey and Rupert – pissed off though he looks right now – is rather fond of Ethan. Sure enough, Rupert uncurls his grip on the lackey’s coat, drops the stake to the floor with a clatter.

“Good” says Drusilla. “And now –” And she freezes herself, her expression stricken, and a wail erupts from her. For a moment, it looks like madness; then Ethan smells the smoke and panics himself, pulls away from her. Standing shakily behind her, Amy clutches a candle from the shrine; a candle whose flame is now swelling as it runs up the length of Drusilla’s dress.  

For a second, they are all frozen in an unnerving tableau, and then Drusilla’s screams grow louder and she darts about the small room, hands fluttering knocking into the walls. Darting around her, Rupert’s hand closes around Ethan’s wrist and he pulls his partner to the door, telling him, “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, you pilloc – Ethan?”

Sinking to the floor, Ethan explains, “Sorrow-feeder” As explanations go, it’s probably not especially illuminating, but Rupert doesn’t question him further, and instead pushes him toward the door before turning to reach for Amy. In the doorway, Ethan is promptly trampled by a panicked, wailing vampire as Drusilla heads for the exit.

Smoke and flames chasing each other up the length of her body, the vampire launches herself blindly through the shop, crashing into mannequin after clothes rack after table. Around her, nylon and polyester burst into cackling flames and the fire alarm joins her shrieking. As Ethan tries to rise, he is knocked back again by the henchman, apparently come to his senses and judging it best to run. He darts directly to the front door and through it, leaving it swinging open, letting in flame-feeding night air. “Um. Rupert?” Struggling to get his feet underneath him, Ethan twists around to find Rupert attempting to lift Amy, who has also succumbed to the lingering effects of the Sorrow-feeder. “Rupert, hurry up!”

Behind him, there is a crash of glass and suddenly where the window was a leather-clad vampire now is. Why he couldn’t just use the door, Ethan judges to be the least of their worries, though it does bother him, with his shop getting thoroughly trashed between the two vampires. He concentrates on trying to stand, bracing himself against the doorframe and attempting to pull himself up, Meanwhile the new vampire pulls Drusilla to the ground, rolling her to extinguish the flames.

“Ethan” Rupert is beside him again, Amy sagging against his side, his hand finding and tugging on Ethan’s elbow. Ethan slings an arm over Rupert’s shoulder and, coughing as the flames pick up and the smoke rolls in, Rupert straightens up, pulling Amy and Ethan along with him.

Their way is blocked by the new vampire. He snarls and them, all menace and leather, and Rupert stops, shifts Amy to cling to his arm so he can reach for his weapon…which of course is dropped on the ground behind them. Ethan watches the realisation play out on his partner’s face and then turns his attention to a nearby mask, half melted, flames dancing like a mane around its edges. If he could just levitate it to fly at the vampire…but he’s spent from being fed on earlier, and just the effort has him sinking to the floor again as the vampire advances.

“Spike! Leave them!” Suddenly Angel is rushing in and the new vampire’s attention turns to him. They exchange a few blows as Rupert attempts to drag Ethan and Amy to the door. As they edge past a whimpering Drusilla, they are knocked aside by Spike, who scoops her up and exits the way he came, knocking more glass from the window in the process. Angel turns to the three of them and pulls Ethan towards him, half supports, half carries him, leaving Rupert to help Amy.  Dragging Ethan past the burning counter, the vampire calls out, “Buffy, get back!”

Ethan peers through the smoke: in the doorway, Buffy is a bridal silhouette, all flammable skirt and ribboned wig. At Angel’s yell, she does step back, away from the flames, and out of sight.  

As soon as he has him out the door, Angel deposits Ethan on the ground and heads back inside. Unable to stand, Ethan crawls until the ground beneath him is reassuringly cool.

“Ethan?” All of a sudden, Rupert is beside him. “Here, up you come. Are you alright?” He pulls Ethan to his feet.

Ethan nods, steadying himself against his partner. “The others?”

“Everyone’s safe, Angel got us out.”

“Good” says Ethan, and promptly faints.

*****

At some point in the evening – presumably when the plaster cast bust of Janus succumbed to the flames – Buffy ceased to be an odd hybrid of eighteenth century lady and modern day teen and reverted to her regular self. Until that point, the firefighters put her occasional less-than-pertinent comments down to smoke inhalation and wasted time attempting to treat her. Not that anything could have saved the shop, Giles reflects as he heads upstairs. Ethan’s costumes were many things, but fire-retardant was not one of them.

Unsurprisingly, Ethan is already asleep in bed. Unsurprisingly because on top of casting powerful magic on Buffy, being held captive by vampires, breathing in smoke and watching his shop burn down, the prat had also managed to come close to being eaten by a Sorrow demon. To say it has been a busy night for Ethan would be something of an understatement.

Much as Giles knows he should be berating his partner for reckless, all he can bring himself to do is slide under the covers beside him and wrap his arms around him.

Ethan stirs and Giles murmurs, “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“’Salright.” Ethan twists around to press his face against Giles’ chest.

“You’re still cold”

“I’m fine.” Ethan’s arm slips across Giles’ shoulder. “I love you, Rupert. You’re my favourite person.”

“I love you too. Even if you are a complete arse.”


	22. Lie to Me

Possibly if he were a little better with textiles, Ethan reflects, he could salvage some of the less damaged costumes and turn them into something else. Post-apocalypse zombies perhaps. But no: even if he could save half the costumes that weren’t reduced to ash, he wouldn’t be able to fill a tenth of the shop with them. Time to move on. The Halloween influx had been tiresome anyway. Party supplies were a stock that barely shifted most of the year and then brought in more customers than he could easily manage during holidays he’d rather spend with Rupert. Much better to sell something else. Assuming the insurance pays out and he can even keep the place.

Not much to want to keep right now: the shop is a smouldering, soot-smeared mess. And of course the money Ethan had set on the counter is gone, rendering the whole evening pointless.

Actually the counter’s gone too.

While Rupert has done his best over the weekend it’s been other Sunnydale business owners who have been over here helping most of the time. Joyce has given piles of misshapen mannequins lifts to the dump and Dumitru has put in hours of sweeping and made daily coffee runs. Really, it’s all been rather touching. But today Ethan is sweeping alone, clearing up the last of the powdery ash and occasional globs of candle wax that was his shrine.

The clattering bell (even the bell is a little misshapen now) announces Rupert’s arrival. “Ethan? How’s it going?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful” Ethan can’t resist sarcasm as he leans the broom against the wall and enters the main shop. “Another whole day of sweeping.”

“Well take a break for a moment. I brought coffee” Rupert tries to set said coffee on a side table, registers the creak and thinks better of it. Instead he sits down on one of the fold-out chairs Dumitru brought over from the Magic Box cellar and balances the cardboard tray on his knee. Ethan joins him, gratefully sipping from the proffered polystyrene cup. Rupert asks, “Did you get Jenny’s message?”

“Yes. It should be fun.”

“Should it? I can’t think of anything worse than monster trucks.”

“Well in fairness, I’ve spent my week sweeping so anything’s fun by comparison.”

“I’m sorry, Ethan. It was lovely little shop.”

“Yes it was, wasn’t it? Still, things change. And at least I got the better costumes shifted for Halloween. It was only the rejects left over.”

“I suppose so.”

“You know, I keep trying to think of a spell that will sort out the cleaning but I can’t come up with anything.” Ethan tells him. “You’d think after a good few millennia of civilisation, someone would think to invent a decent spell for cleaning.”

“If they had, I doubt chaos magic would take particularly well to it.”

“Perhaps not. I’ll just have to do it the old fashioned way.” Ethan sighs and changes the subject back to their one social engagement this whole month, (because thank you Rupert for dragging them from London). “So are you coming to the monster trucks, or do I have to pretend you have a headache or something?”

“Actually if you’re going, I wonder if Stephen and I could meet you afterwards. I don’t think he’s an enthusiast either.”

“Why don’t you just come with us? Like I said, it will be fun.”

“It won’t be fun, it will be monster trucks.” Giles sweeps soot off the plastic lid of his coffee cup and glances at the ceiling, then at the gaping window. “Have you put a barrier spell on that?”

“No, but there’s nothing left anyone in their right mind would steal.”

“I suppose not. I’m sorry I can’t stay to help by the way” Rupert stands up, “but I have to get back.”

“That’s fine. Think about the monster trucks, won’t you?” Ethan frowns. “Perhaps we could invite Joyce and Dumitru too? If Jenny doesn’t mind.” They really have been helpful after all.

Rupert shakes his head. “I don’t think that’ a good idea I’m afraid. I’ve had the don’t-tell-anyone chat with Jenny and Stephen, but I’m not sure I want to test it by having them socialise with Buffy’s mother.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Rupert, given your slayer’s computing and science teachers and half a dozen students know her secret identity, would it really hurt if her mum did too?”

“Her teachers and friends can’t force her to move house” Rupert returns, “unlike her mother. And I could certainly picture Joyce sending Buffy to live with her father if she knew what she’s facing here. Even if she didn’t, I doubt she’d want to socialise with the people who’ve been keeping the truth of her daughter’s life from her.”

Ethan shrugs. “I suppose so” If he can’t invite Joyce, he can’t invite Dumitru either, when they’ve both been decent after the fire. “It still seems strange to me.”

“Ethan” The word is coloured with Rupert’s warning tone. Ethan holds up an appeasing hand. “Alright, I’ll bow to your superior watcherly knowledge.”

Rupert scrutinises him for a moment before nodding once. “I’ll hold you to that. I really mean it, Ethan.”

“I know.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“See you, Rupert.” Left alone, Ethan finishes his coffee and takes up his broom again.

*****

“What did you think?” Jenny asks as they leave the stadium.

“I could learn to like it” Ethan replies diplomatically.

“That bad?” She looks disappointed.

“Hey, at least I gave it a go.”

“I guess so. Not bad for a self-proclaimed hater of sports.”

“I wouldn’t call that a sport” They are parked a little way out, and Ethan can’t help but think of how appealing an event like this must be to vampires, with this big crowd of “sport” fans spreading out across the car park. So easy to lose track of people or be directed away from help by someone even vaguely official looking. He shakes his head: Sunnydale must be rubbing off on him. Hundreds of places like this in London and he never noticed it before. To take his mind of the thought, he adds, “It was the scoring that put me off. If you’re going to have massive vehicles bouncing around and making a lot of noise, why not just go with it? No need to formalise it with rules.”

“If there weren’t any rules it would be pointless.”

“See, that’s what I don’t understand about sport. Which I’m still not convinced that was, by the way.”

“You don’t understand the point of rules?”

“Chaos mage, remember?”

“You have to admit we need some rules” They reach the car, which seems tiny now. Getting in, Ethan argues, “Isn’t it supposed to be about fun? And instead they make it boring sitting there discussing this move or that.”

Jenny shakes her head. “I’m just going to give up. I need to get a whole separate group of friends to go to things like this with and leave you geeks to talk about demons.”

“Probably”

As they turn out of the car park, Jenny adds, “Well, the only person I know in Sunnydale into his sports is Coach Marin and I think I’d rather hang out with Spike.”

“I didn’t say I hated it. It’s probably just an acquired taste.”

“And let me guess, you’re not going to try to acquire it?”

“…probably not. In my defence, I don’t have a lot of time for my established hobbies either.”

Jenny shakes her head. “Yep: it’s official. On the Venn diagram of sports fans, computer nerds and techno pagans is a tiny overlap labelled Jenny Calendar.”

“I’d embrace it if I were you.”

“Right.” They drive on, clearing the traffic and heading back towards town. After a while, Jenny asks, “Has Rupert ever actually been to monster trucks?”

“Not unless he has a double life I’m unaware of. Well, third life.”

“And I know for a fact Stephen hasn’t. He just lives in a little biology bubble.”

“Well Rupert lives in a demonology bubble” Ethan replies, “Which makes you wonder what they’re talking about. Probably primal possession.”

“Oh, fun. I’ll get back into wicca mode, then. Where are we meeting them? Espresso Pump?”

Ethan nods, and adds, “Which was hard to decide on given how frontloaded this town is with entertainment options.”

Jenny rolls her eyes. “Tell me about it. This town is the definition of boring when it isn’t busy being the definition of terrifying.”

Curious, Ethan asks, “Are you not tempted to move to LA? Or somewhere else with more to it than Sunnyhell.” He’s never thought about it before, but she seems like a city person.

“I’d love to” she says simply, “but I’ve got family stuff.”

From her tone Ethan senses not to pry so he doesn’t, instead just accepts that at least one of the few interesting people will be sticking around.

When they get to the Espresso pump they find Stephen waiting alone, Rupert having been called away by Buffy via the pager he borrowed from Ethan and – against Ethan’s expectations – actually managed to work. Despite not wanting to get involved in his partner’s thankless career, Ethan finds he can’t enjoy the evening not knowing what’s going on and makes his excuses, leaves early.  

*****

“So after I rushed home it was just a vampire on campus? I was worried.” Ethan says pointedly once Giles has told him the whole story.

“Well so am I.” Giles replies. “Vampires are about the one demographic I don’t want reading. Not to mention that young man claimed he’d killed the vampire and hadn’t. Then again, perhaps that was just bravado.” Certainly he’d exaggerated the number of vampires he’d slain when he and Ethan first met. He’d never let one go without owning up though. Possibly the boy was someone to keep an eye on, if he was going to be in Buffy’s little group.

“Let’s hope” says Ethan. “You know, Rupert, if you have your own pager – or better yet a mobile phone – you could have let me know you were all safe without me leaving the café.”

That suggestion deserves nothing but a glare so Giles gives it one before relenting with, “You shouldn’t have worried, you know. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been called away for work.”

“Yes but Buffy called you. I didn’t think she would unless it was something serious.”

Ethan worried about Buffy? Giles smiles at the thought, but replies, “I think you’re giving her undeserved credit for not wanting to disturb me. Not that I don’t appreciate her being thorough.”

“Run out of things to chat to Stephen about?”

“No, actually. We had a long conversation about primal possession –”

“Knew it”

“– and then we moved on to magic. How were the monster trucks by the way?”

“Noisy and passably impressive. Don’t think I’ll go again though.” Ethan shifts closer to him on the sofa. “You’d have hated it.”

“Yes, I thought I would.” Giles sighs, “I’m sorry about worrying you.”

“So you should be”

*****

The following night there really is reason to worry, and after worry has given way to shock and bruises, Giles drives them all home.

He should have pursued Ford’s lie about staking that vampire, he thinks bitterly. He should have questioned why the boy knew about the supernatural. None of this would have happened.

Finally, he and Buffy are alone in the car. Willow and Xander, who – thank God – suffered no serious injuries, were escorted home by Angel, while the two survivors from the Sunset club have been dropped off; a shy blonde girl to a worryingly rundown building with a washing machine abandoned on the front lawn and boy in a crass novelty cape to a well-kept suburban house that looked to have no-one home yet. Glancing at his slayer, Giles reassures himself that she’s not fallen asleep. With that bruise on her forehead, she should stay awake for a few hours if she can possibly bear it. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not. I could get the Council to pay if that’s the concern.”

“I just want to go home.”

Giles wonders what she’ll tell her mother. Still staring straight ahead Buffy adds, “I should have realised something was up with Ford sooner. I could have stopped this.”

“There was nothing you possibly could have done.” Giles tells her firmly, “If anything I could have stopped it. I should have looked into why he claimed to have staked a vampire when he hadn’t.”

“Yeah, well so could I. I know him.” She sniffs. “Knew him. It isn’t your fault, Giles.”

“Well, then, it’s not yours either.”

“Right. No-one’s fault. Except Ford’s. And I think he was just scared.”

“I’ve no doubt he was.”

“There was just so many of them, Giles. Once they got in there and started feeding, I didn’t know who to save first.” She sighs deeply. “I just saved the closest. It was a free for all.”

“I’m sure. Buffy, I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m the slayer, remember? Sort of comes with the territory.” Beneath her attempt to be brave, her voice shakes. “And then they pulled most of them into that truck. I think I could have saved more if wasn’t for that truck showing up.”

“I imagine they wanted to take some – err – sustenance back to Drusilla. I’m afraid she’ll need to feed to heal those burns.”

Buffy shudders at that and Giles hates himself for pointing it out, but the reality is, she’s right: this does come with the territory. Even if she is only sixteen and has just witnessed carnage and would rather not think about it. Apparently she understands that herself, because she straightens a little in the passenger seat and attempts to sound business-like: “Do you think they’ll actually do it? Turn him I mean.”

“I can’t see why they wouldn’t” Giles admits. The boy has proven himself capable of organising a massacre, after all, even with a soul in place. What a vampire taking over someone like that could be like doesn’t bear thinking about. Not that they won’t know the reality soon enough. And with him delivered to Drusilla, there’s no realistic hope of preventing him from rising, not with Buffy already injured from the fight with Spike in the bunker.  

“I hate this” Buffy tells him, and Giles can’t think of anything adequately comforting to say.


	23. The Dark Age

“Here, Ethan, you’re falling asleep” Marvin sets a drink in front of Ethan and sits down across from him. Behind the bar, Willy mutters about not paying him to chat but since the place is empty aside from Ethan and one tipsy Snarlough by the juke box, he can’t really tell Marvin to get back to work.

Sitting up straighter, Ethan murmurs “Thanks” and picks up the proffered can of coke. Nice touch of Marvin not to open it, or he wouldn’t trust that no-one’s drugged it.

Marvin says, “Slow night.”

“Yes, I noticed” A good thing too, or almost dropping off in here would be dangerous.

“It was packed yesterday. We had a load of Spike’s crew in here, initiating a newbie. Some kid from that bunker club they raided. He’d just done his first kill.”

“Oh?” Ethan doesn’t really want to think about the bunker – Willow’s description had been more than he wanted to know as it was – but at least it takes his mind off the reason he’s fighting sleep in this place instead of going home.

“Yeah, you gotta love newbies. He was all set to go after the slayer. They all think they’re invincible when they first rise, ’course, but here she’s actually around so they had to tell him it’s bad idea.” Marvin glances around as the juke box switches track to something warbling Ethan doesn’t recognise, then settles back. “The guy thought my name was really funny. Apparently there was a kid in that bunker called Marvin who kept trying to come up with something cooler. What does he know?”

“Given he was prepared to feed himself to vampires, I imagine very little” Not to mention, Ethan has known ruthless fighters named Rupert in his time, but he doesn’t mention that. Never mentions Rupert in this place, in fact. Doubtless a few know about his connection to the slayer’s watcher, but he’d like to keep the numbers that low. Deciding he may as well get some information, Ethan asks, “Was it only the one new one?”

“Yeah, they just ate the rest of ’em. The one they did sire wasn’t that cut up about it though.”

“I’d have thought they’d turn more” Ethan comments. “Given they want more henchmen.”

“Nah” Marvin shakes his head. “Too many newbs at once is asking for trouble. They’re ravenous when they first rise. Pain in the butt trying to control them.” He frowns. “Shame those kids never knew about the bite-house. Could have been good customers.”

“Whole thing’s a shame” Ethan takes a long drink. “I thought you were done with that place anyway, all set to join Spike’s gang?”

Marvin laughs. “Not anymore – the way the slayer’s gunning for them? And Spike still wants to finish the job.” He gives a theatrical shudder. “Not a showdown I wanna be around for. Hey, are you alright, Ethan? You look wiped.”

“I’m fine” replies Ethan shortly.

“Uh huh. Well, I should get out of here before dawn. See you.”

Surprised, Ethan checks his watch and realises it’s later than he thought, or rather, earlier. And with the dreams starting up again, Rupert’s probably concerned about his whereabouts than usual. “Bugger”.

*****

After Giles jolts awake from a nightmare so horrendous he has to get up and splash water on his face, he finds Ethan wide awake amid the tangle of covers on their bed. “You too?”

“No” Ethan replies, looking shaken, “But only because I haven’t been to sleep yet.” It’s five a.m.

Giles sighs and pushes the duvet aside to lie down again. “It’s getting worse.” Once or twice since Eyghon took Randall, they’ve had dreams that have worried them, but nothing like this. This is more vivid than mere memory and it’s happening too suddenly and regularly for that too.

“Yes” replies Ethan, grimly. “He’s coming, isn’t he?” When Giles doesn’t answer straight away, Ethan insists, “He is. I can feel it. Rupert, we need to do something”

“What, exactly?” Giles replies, but he knows Ethan is right.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll keep researching tomorrow.” For the past few days since the dreams returned with their unnerving familiarity, researching this long-buried piece of his past has been all Giles has been doing.

Ethan asks him, “Should we run?”

“Eyghon would find us.”

“I don’t mean for our sake. It’s coming straight for your children too, if we stay here.”

“That’s uncharacteristically noble of you” Giles hears the words, born of sleep-depravation, slip out and regrets them as they do, but Ethan doesn’t seem offended. He simply shrugs and says, “Well, running is a specialty of mine. Maybe I see the benefits of it even if they’re not for me.”

True that, Giles notes. After all, it had been Ethan who had taken charge of their flight across London in the hours after Randall was consumed.  Actually, it had been Ethan who had realised when things had gone wrong with Randall and got him out the room, which had in turn alerted him to the need to get everyone else out. And come back with a sword. Giles swallows thickly. Odd that Ethan should think of such common-sense competence as a sort of cowardice. Absently, Giles reaches out and pulls his partner into an embrace. “We can’t run” he decides. “We need to keep our heads, stay here and research. We’ll find a way out of this, Ethan. It’ll be alright.”

*****

Giles puts the phone down, the edges of the world growing darker as though he’s looking through a filter at it. “Diedre is dead.”

“Shit” Ethan runs a hand over his face. He could do with a shower, Giles notices. Probably they both could. A day of forgoing hygiene and food for the sake of research, and all they have to show for it so far is Eyghon three dead people closer to them. Probably the only sane option left is to hop in the shower together and enjoy their final hours before they’re both walking corpses.

Giles knows he should feel sad over Diedre but all he feels in empty. He thinks back to the night they lost Randall – not lost in a euphemism sense but lost as one loses receipts or car keys. Carelessly.

Now it feels as though everything that has happened to him since that night – his entire life with Ethan – was just a cruel trick Eyghon was playing on him. He looks at Ethan who looks at the carpet, and he wonders how on earth he ever believed he would be allowed to keep him. It seems beyond audacious.

*****

Finding Ethan in the library the following morning, Buffy smiles and says, “You too? Who knew school on a Saturday would be so popular.”

“Speak for yourself” mutters Ethan, taking a seat at the table. “I seem to recall school five days a week being a little much.”

“You’re preaching to the converted and fanatical, here.” She perches on the library counter and adds, “The guys are in the computer lab” by way of explanation.

“Ah”

“How’s the head?”

“What?”

“You and Giles seemed kinda trashed last night. Which, none of my business unless it causes him to forget key slayage appointments. What gives?”

“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about, actually.” Ethan sighs. “But you didn’t here this from me; Rupert wants to keep you out of it.”

“Keep me out of what?” The poor child actually looks worried just because the man had had a few drinks and missed an appointment. Gods alone know what she’ll make of the tale he’s about to tell. Ethan tucks his chair in, rests his elbows on the table, runs tired hands through his hair.

“Ethan. Just tell me.”

“Right. Yes.” Ethan looks up again. “Have you ever heard of Eyghon?”

“Eyes gone?”

“It’s –” And that’s the moment the demon in question crashes through the window, wearing what’s left of Philip. With a gasp, Ethan springs to his feet but he’s hampered by the chair and the bloody slayer would have to be on the other side of the room.

He does his best to fight, he really does. It’s just that his best isn’t very good. Only takes Eyghon a few moments to have him round the throat. Buffy dives at it but it knocks her back, releases Ethan briefly to swing at her. Deposited on the floor, Ethan’s eyes dart to the weapons in the cage, but he doesn’t have time to move before Eyghon has hold of him again.

This time, the demon squeezes Ethan’s throat with brutal efficiency and his vision swims. Ethan thinks the words for a protection spell with all his might but can’t speak them out loud with Philip’s hands at his neck. Always had a nice firm grip, had Philip and Gods, what a stupid thing to be thinking about when he’s about to die –

Vaguely aware of Buffy barging into Eyghon, Ethan kicks out ineffectually at it. A cursory blow to the slayer and it turns back to him, redoubles its grip. Hard to breathe now. Unarticulated magic swells reflexively in Ethan and dies away. He blacks out.

*****

At some point after Angel lunges at Ethan – at Eyghon in Ethan – the demon leaps from man to vampire. Giles doesn’t see the struggle between Angel’s demon and his own, busy as he is gathering Ethan into his arms. Ethan is bedraggled and confused, and wonderfully, wonderfully alive and Giles can scarcely believe that the universe really has been this merciful. “Ethan? Are you alright?”

“Rupert – yes – what –”

“It’s alright. I’ll explain when we’ve got you home.” Giles hugs his fiancé in a bear-grip that can’t be comfortable but Ethan doesn’t complain.


	24. What's my Line part 1

“I won’t be home until late” Rupert tells him over the phone. “Something’s come up.”

“Anything I should be concerned about?” Ethan asks, holding the phone in place against his shoulder, his hands taken up with the books he’s carrying. Really, he’d rather just close up the shop and go home, but he’ll lose the place if he doesn’t pay the rent on it eventually, and that requires a stock to sell.

“I hope not” Rupert tells him from across town. “Are you alright? You sound tired.”

“We’ve bloody Eyghon to thank for that” Ethan confirms.

“Don’t overdo it, will you. I’ll see you later.” Rupert sounds tired too.

“Are you sure don’t want to move the research over here?” Ethan asks, shoving the books onto a shelf. “We could leave together.”

“Thank you, but I think this is going to require more of my books than I can easily carry”

“That bad?”

“Yes” Rupert pauses. “I don’t um, I don’t suppose you know anything about the Order of Taraka?”

Ethan rolls his eyes at the question – “Exactly how bad a boy do you think I am?” – before he actually processes it. “Wait, are they in town?”

“There seems to be a contract out on Buffy.”

“Shit” Ethan leans against his new counter. “Spike and Drusilla?”

“I think so. Do you know anything about the order?”

“Only to stay out their way.” A Grunlore demon had called into a charming little pub named Hell’s Mouth, in Wandsworth, years ago. Usually the Grunlore aren’t too bad but everyone moved for this one, cleared its way to the bar. Ethan had only learnt later it was part of the order. He says, “You’re not going to fight them, are you?”

“I may have no choice. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Rupert. And for Gods’ sake be careful. Remember it is technically the slayer who’s supposed to do the actual fighting.”

“Not when she’s the target, it isn’t. I’ll be careful, Eth.”

“You bloody better be.”


	25. What's my Line part 2

“That was Buffy” Giles tells Ethan, putting the phone down. “She’s got Angel settled in his bed.”

“Kendra still with her?”

“Yes.” Giles sits down and, noticing Ethan’s exhausted body language, pulls him down to rest his head on his lap. He adds, “Buffy’s going to help her organise a journey home that doesn’t involve hiding in the luggage hold of an aircraft. I suspect I’ll be covering the cost but I don’t begrudge her that.”

Ethan smiles, adjusting himself to fit more snuggly against his partner. “You realise her watcher will say you’ve corrupted her when she gets off the plane gushing about the inflight movie?”

“Oh, from what I hear Mr Zabuto is alright. Perhaps a little traditional.”

“Ah, yes. Because forcing a teenage girl to smuggle herself into the USA rather than cough up for a plane ticket is tradition.”

“He may have been testing her, seeing if she could avoid detainment. The Council have strings to pull if she hadn’t.”

“Yes, I’m sure it wasn’t anything at all to do with council toadies being cheapskates.”

“Well do you want me to badmouth a colleague?”

“Yes. I’ve been waiting years for just that.”

Giles swallows all the reasonable arguments about the Council taking him back when they didn’t have to, and replies, “Well can it at least be one I’ve met?”

“I suppose” Ethan reaches for Giles’ hand and puts it against his cheek. For all he keeps saying he’s alright, he’s been unusually cuddly since Eyghon. Not that Giles minds, he reflects, stroking Ethan’s hair.

After a few moments of openly savouring the head massage, Ethan asks, “While we’re on that subject, why’d you think the council didn’t tell you there are two slayers now?”

Giles has his theories about that, ranging from the relatively benign (there simply not being a precedent for the situation and the Council being an institution encumbered by ritual) to the rather telling (the Council not wanting the two slayers to support each other in some sort of insurrection). Not that he’s prepared to share any of that with Ethan. Instead he shakes his head resignedly and murmurs, “Ours is not to reason why”

“Dear, you do know how that couplet ends, don’t you?”


	26. Ted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 2 episode 11, Ted, written by David Greenwalt and Joss Whedon.

“How was patrol?” Ethan hands Giles a serving of spaghetti. It’s a little overdone; Ethan had been reading from his new stock of second hand books when Giles got home, oblivious to the pan boiling over.

“Rather…heated” Giles replies, tucking in. “Buffy was a little more enthusiastic than usual.”

“Failing grades?” Ethan takes a seat and sprinkles a liberal helping of parmesan over his dinner.

“Joyce is dating.”

“Ah: She’s met Ted.”

“You know him?”

“He’s been hanging round the gallery a few times I’ve visited. Tiresome bloke, but he can cook well enough to make up for it.”

Giles thinks of his parents’ brief separation and then dismisses the memory. There is nothing of use there for Buffy. His parents rekindled things once he returned home, united, he still suspects, by a mutual horror of who he’d brought with him. Back then, of course, divorce was relatively rare, but these days, Buffy at least doesn’t have that to contend with. “I’m sure she’ll adjust.”

*****

“Perhaps we should call on Buffy” Ethan suggests as they enter the cemetery, their footsteps deliberately soft. “Maybe slaying would take her mind off things.”

Giles sighs. He might have known Ethan would get second thoughts about putting himself in danger at the very last moment. “You didn’t have to come, Eth. I asked if you’d rather –”

“– Wait quietly at home and just hope you’d come back? Yes, so you did.”

Annoyance transmutes into sympathy. Giles has had his share of waiting and worrying over the years. He replies, “It’s not as though I haven’t patrolled before.”

“With Buffy. Not on your own.”

“I am a trained watcher, Ethan.”

“Well I’m not.”

“All you need to do is carry the bag. Or go back to the car if you’d rather.”

“That’s even worse than waiting at home. At least home’s warm and they need an invite.”

Giles brushes his arm. “We’ll be fine. It’s not as though we can’t handle a few vampires between the two of us”.

Ethan shrugs. “Maybe Buffy would rather be out here than stuck with Joyce. It’s got to be a little awkward, the two of them under one roof.”

Frankly, Giles suspects he’s right. But, “She’s too distracted by all this to patrol safely.”

“Well you’d be there to focus her.”

“Enough” The annoyance is back. “She’s not up to patrol. Besides, Buffy and her mother need some time to…” He trails off, not exactly sure how to finish. Meeting Ethan’s gaze he finally says, “They need some privacy at the moment. And I doubt Joyce would let Buffy leave the house in any case.”

“Not if you still insist on not telling the poor woman what’s really going on.”

“I think a revelation like that is the last thing she needs right now.” Giles turns leads them away from the undergrowth and circles a likely looking crypt, checking the ground for tell-tale litter or cigarette butts and trusting Ethan to be aware of their wider surroundings. “No, I think we can just manage for ourselves tonight. Let Buffy put things right at home.” As though there’s a way to do that. If there is a way, Giles reflects that he of all people should know it, but his circumstances were different. His father and mother never met Randall. Pushing aside the memories that name trails with a practiced self-discipline, he steps away from the crypt and heads back to the path, keeping a wary eye on the gravestones around them. Behind him, Ethan says, “If I’d known we were going to do this, I’d have prepared some Gwynedd’s Fire.”

“Well I’ll ask Buffy to warn us well in advance next time she’s going to be attacked by her mother’s boyfriend, shall I?” Giles’ tone is more resigned than irritated; he knows Ethan hates fighting without magic. He pauses by a second crypt to scan the graves.

“Rupert”

“We’ll be alright Ethan.”

“Really? Even with those two vampires heading our way?”

“What?” Giles spins to face the direction Ethan’s pointing. A large vampire has emerged from around the bush, fangs out, followed by a slighter one, who grins at them. Behind Giles, Ethan backs up a few wide steps.

“Mr Giles right?” the thinner vampire says and Giles tenses, recognising Billy Fordham of Sunset Club fame. Or at least, the vampire who has taken him over. “Ford” He reaches slowly for the pocket of his coat.

“The same. Hey, how’s Buffy doing? I hope there’s no hard feelings.”

As he speaks the other vampire edges sideways, crouched in a defensive pose and growling. Ethan backs off even further and Giles wishes he wouldn’t: it would be easier to protect him if he stayed close. Not to mention he has the weapons.

Wanting to keep the focus on himself, Giles replies, “Hard to imagine she doesn’t hold a grudge. She’ll make you pay for what you did to those people.” Slipping a hand into his pocket, he gets a grip on the stake.

“Yeah?” Ford grins. “I sure am scared. She looked so tough getting thrashed by my sire.”

The second vampire is behind him now. Swigging round, Giles jabs at it with the stake, but it’s seen his intention and darts sideways, then runs at him with a roar, pinning him to the ground.

Squashed beneath the bulk of the snarling vampire and fighting to keep it from his throat, Giles is vaguely aware of Ethan darting about, trying to stay out of Ford’s way as the vampire swipes lazily at him, laughing. Giles calls out, “Ethan – the bag!” before the vampire tightens his grip on his throat and cuts him off.

At the corner of his vision, Ethan fumbles through the bag while Ford advances. With an adrenaline-fuelled effort, Giles manages to take a good swing at the vampire on top of him and leaps to his feet as it staggers back. Another round follows, the vampire grabbing and lunging, Giles trying to wrestle it off him, but at least he stays on his feet. Even when Ethan shoots him square in the arse, in fact, though he screams and staggers back. Through a rising mist of pain, he hears Ethan swear and the vampires crack up. Unnoticed by all of them, he takes his chance to slam the stake into the vampire before finally sinking to the ground. It’s Ford’s turn to swear now and the curse quickly turns into a yelp that intermingles with a hiss of holy water hitting unholy flesh. Pulling himself upright, Giles sees Ford rub frantically at his eyes before retreating. “I’ll get you for that you bastards!”

“Rupert!” Ethan falls to his knees besides Giles. “Oh Janus, Rupert –”

“I’m alright” Giles reassures him reflectively, well aware that the statement is not all that believable while he’s got an arrow sticking out his backside. But Ethan is at least calmed enough to say, “Alright – err - come on, let’s get you to the ER.”

*****

“I’m sorry”

“I know, you’ve said.”

“Well, I still am.”

With some effort, Giles lifts his head from the pillow, something he can only do for a few moments from flat on his front. “It’s alright, Ethan. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine: you’ve got five stiches in your bum!”

“And yet I sense that one day you’ll look back on this and laugh.”

“While you glower and tut?” Ethan lies down next to him.

“If you like”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Good to know you won’t have changed.”

“I thought you worshiped a God of change?”

“Well one can make an exception. I like you just the way you are.”

“Scarred buttocks and all?”

Ethan’s smile wavers and Giles hastily reaches for him. “I’m fine. It was just one of those things.”

“But that was virtually the only place you didn’t have a scar!”

“You’re exaggerating.” Giles pulls him closer. “I may have had a few scrapes in my time, but I think my skin’s borne up okay, don’t you?”

Ethan buries his face in Giles shoulder. “You’ll do” He wriggles onto his side, wraps his arms round Giles. “And don’t you worry, I’m going to think of some creative ways to make it up to you once you’re healed up.”

“Now we’re talking.” Giles grins and snuggles closer, happy for now to just be in bed and be in one piece and happy not to say that least he provokes Ethan’s guilt again. They go to sleep like that, still entwined.

*****

“What I want to know is, how did it eat? I mean, the thing could _cook_ , so it had to eat in front of people, right? So where was that all going?”

Ethan wrinkles his nose at the thing stretched out across a counter in the newly refurbished shop. “Please don’t find out here.”

“I thought you’re still closed?” Willow glances up in wide-eyed innocence. Like a wide eyed innocent with a screwdriver poised over a mangled and very human looking robot, in fact, and Ethan isn’t having it. “I’m opening tomorrow” he informs her. “And funnily enough, I don’t want my customers to be subjected to you dissecting a robotic serial killer.” The whole operation is looking like it could go on for weeks. More cogs and pieces of wire litter the place than Ethan cares to think about.

“I’m just having a look”

“Inside a robotic serial killer.”

“I’m just interested.”

“In a _robotic serial killer_.”

Willow sighs. “I’d do it at home, only my parents would freak.”

“You think I’m not freaking?”

“I’ll be done and cleaned up before tomorrow, Ethan, I promise.”

“You’d better be.” The place is finally looking promising, with the magic books sorted onto a separate shelf from the rest of the non-fiction and boxes of the tattier volumes set out on the central table for browsing. A few rarer volumes shipped in from London should spark the interest of those who actually know what to look for.

“I just want to check one or two things.” Willow applies the screw driver to a metal plate hidden beneath a flap of false skin. “Some of this stuff is really ahead of its time. The sad part is the real Ted must have been a genius.”

“No, I’m going to go ahead and say the sad part is he _built a_ _robotic serial killer_ and you’re taking it apart in my shop.”

“I’ll tidy up.”

Resigned, Ethan shakes his head and goes to make tea. When he comes back, Willow has the bulk of the machinery exposed. Ted’s innards are frighteningly orderly and lit by sporadic flashes from bits and buttons still active-seeming. “You realise it did kill four people” he tells Willow. “You might want to make sure it’s going to stay down.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I will. I don’t want it popping out from under my bed at night.”

“You’re keeping it under your bed?”

“Only bits of it. It’s where my mom never has time to tidy.”

“I despair of you, child.” Ethan stalks off to sit behind the counter. “You’ve got thirty minutes and then I’m driving you both home.”

“Uh huh” Willow plucks two wires from the thing’s abdomen and the lingering light in Ted’s chest cavity sputters out. Glancing up, she asks, “How’s Giles?”

“Grumpy about being off work. I think the cookies are wearing off.”

“Wait, you dosed him with Ted’s cookies?”

“Well I reckoned Joyce wouldn’t want them in the gallery.”

“So it’s bad for me to take apart the robot for science, but when you drug your fiancé, that’s okay?”

“It was the only way to get him to stay at home!” Rupert is a nightmare to keep in bed when he needs it. Ethan wishes he’d discovered tranquilisers long ago.

“He’ll be mad.”

“Worth the risk. He has forgiven me for shooting him in the arse, after all.”


	27. Bad Eggs

Relieved as he is when Ethan walks through the door, Giles down plays it. Expressing worry would only give Ethan an opening to take offense at the insinuation he can’t handle himself or, depending on his mood, to gripe about the danger of picking up information at Willy’s Place. Not that there isn’t danger, of course, but Ethan minimises that with a careful blend of memory charms, being a reliable dealer in the various snake oils (literal) and talismans lesser demons find uses for, and the occasional magically induced disguise. He only complains about the danger when he’d rather stay indoors. “How did it go?”

“Well” Ethan shrugs his coat off. “How about a cuppa first?”

Giles puts the kettle on. “Did you see them?”

“No, and I get the impression that the Gorch brothers are rather partial to a drink, so they must be keeping a low profile.”

“From what I’ve read, I doubt they’ll keep that up for long.” Giles fetches milk from the fridge and watches Ethan take a seat with a hesitant expression. “Something else?”

“Yes: Spike and Drusilla. Word is they survived.”

It’s Giles’ turn to take a seat, heavily. “Blast.” He should have known from how jubilant Ford and that other one in the cemetery were. Thinking about it, they’d had none of the desperation of vampires whose fraternity had completely fragmented.  

“Yes. He’s injured, apparently, but they’re still hiring.”

“No word on what they’re going to try?”

Ethan shakes his head. “Sorry Rupert, I suppose they’re still at the planning phase. Doubt it will involve quietly leaving and not coming back, though.”

“How many have they hired?”

Ethan shakes his head. “How many questions do you think I can get away with asking?”

“Sorry” Giles pours the tea. “I’ll have to warn Buffy.”

Ethan nods. “And I’ll keep my ears open. She’ll be alright you know. Especially if he’s injured.”

“Is Drusilla healed?”

“I think so: she seems to be getting a mention more. There’s going to be some sort of party.”

“Well that doesn’t sound at all ominous.” Giles rather wishes he’d skipped tea and gone straight to the scotch. “Mr Zabuto seemed more worried about Drusilla than Spike. I’ll have to research her. And perhaps talk to Angel.”

“Oh yes, that’ll be a cosy conversation.”

Giles regards Ethan sourly. “I’m well aware that this is something of an delicate situation, yes.” Delicate is one way to describe the experience of researching a vampire sired by the vampire one’s slayer is dating. Angel is bound to be mentioned in at least some of the accounts of Drusilla’s exploits and then, “I’ll only share with Buffy any information that is strictly relevant to her. She has more than enough to worry about already.”

“On the bright side though, it puts the Gorch brothers into perspective.”

*****

“Did you have sex ed at school?” asks Rupert. Ethan frowns at the question and twists to lie against Rupert’s side. Rupert came home seemingly a little concussed, though he’d put it down to a gas leak, and putting him to bed had morphed into bedding him once his head had cleared. “Nothing useful. I learnt most of it from graffiti in the boy’s toilets.” Learnt to keep quiet about fancying men, for one thing. “You?”

“They taught us how babies are made. And what eats them.” At Ethan’s raised eyebrow, Rupert clarifies, “The tutors wouldn’t want to pass up a chance for a demonology lecture. I learnt more about Horned Snarlosans than sperm cells. Really they just told us not to do it. Or at least not until we were married.”

“Sounds familiar. Apart from the Horned Snarlosans.” Ethan traces his fingertips over Rupert’s torso. Rupert has a little extra padding these days – all the better to cuddle him – but the ready muscles are still under there, taunt beneath deceptive layers of flesh and tweed and mild-mannered bookishness. “We just had to learn by doing.”

“ _We_ did. But I suppose straight couples had to too, back then. Though at least they had a mention outside the psychology section of the family medical encyclopaedia.”

“I’ve no regrets” Ethan declared. “Learning by doing was fun. Well, until someone called the police. And even then, once you taught me that spell…” Sensing Rupert tense beside him, Ethan decides memory lane isn’t worth present day grumpy Rupert. He concludes, “At least things are better now.”

“Now they apparently teach the inconveniences of parenthood via chicken eggs.”

“Come again? Oh, there’s a pun there somewhere.”

“Ethan” Rupert guides his hand back up to his chest and holds it there.

“Alright, be like that. Seriously though, chicken eggs?”

“The children have had to look after them for the past couple of days. Buffy’s called hers Egbert.”

Ethan chortles. “That’s got to be a contender for most stupid analogy ever. ‘Congratulations on the birth of your son, don’t eat him raw’”

“Xander hard boiled his.”

Ethan laughs again and a smile plays at Rupert’s lips, but it fades as he adds, “I hope they get a little more information than the shocking news that babies are demanding.”

“Your kids are bright, Rupert. They’ll manage.”

“I’d rather like them to do more than manage when it comes to something as complex and vital as human sexuality.”

“So teach them.” Ethan suggests. Then, “Oh, that came out wrong.”

“Ethan!”

“You know what I mean! Have the talk. Teach them about the birds and the bees and the best brands of lube.”

“Ethan”

“Well…poorly worded again, I’ll grant you that. But you could still talk to them about it.”

“Actually I couldn’t. I’m not their father. Not to mention it would be unbearably awkward for everyone involved.”

“So you’re just pointlessly worrying in the background?”

“Yes, actually.”

“I see. Poor Rupert.” Ethan quietly concentrates on the important business of cuddling before a thought occurs: “I could teach them.” At Rupert’s expression he adds, “What? I think I’d make a great sex ed teacher.”

“No you wouldn’t, Ethan.”

“Well, I’ve taught you rather a lot.”

“That, that’s different.”

Ethan grins. “No need to get flustered, love. I won’t tell them any of our secrets.”

“Ethan. You are not giving Buffy and her friends sex education.”

“First you get worked up about Willow learning magic, now I can’t tell them about sex. What am I allowed to teach them?”

“How to have a decent taste in music would be a start.”

“Dear. I’m not a miracle worker.”


	28. Surprise

“I’ll be going over early to set up.” Rupert tells Ethan over the phone. Ethan hopes he puts at least as much thought into his next birthday but he replies, “Alright. Shall I see you there then?”

“Yes. And collect Buffy for me later, could you? Don’t tell her about the party, obviously, just think of an excuse.”

“Will do”

“A not too alarming excuse, Eth. She’s been worried about Angel’s safety.”

Really, Ethan imagines Buffy worries about everyone’s safety when she stops to think about it, but Rupert seems to have particularly noticed it this time, so he asks, “Oh?”

“Some possibly portentous dreams. You haven’t heard anything have you?”

“No. He’s hardly popular over at Willy’s but they mostly just bitch about his hair.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later.”

*****

Later finds Ethan driving not only Buffy but also Jenny to the party. Jenny is in on the secret, of course, but Ethan had thought she’d already be there. Working late, apparently, and pensive with it. Buffy on the other hand, is full of questions about why Rupert couldn’t come to the library if he needs to talk to her. Ethan is just starting to stumble over his pre-prepared answers when, luckily, some vampires show up.

“Should we help her?” Jenny asks from the back seat as they watch Buffy take them on.

“I think she’s managing.”

“Poor kid; even her birthday isn’t free of it.”

Buffy finally makes quite an entrance at the party, smashing through the window, dragging a vampire with her.

“Well” says Ethan, “I think that’s our cue to follow” He clambers out the car. “Shame we missed the surprise.”

“Hm” Jenny’s still quiet. It’s annoying: aside from Stephen and Rupert she is Ethan’s only adult company this evening so should have a bit more wit and spark to her. He asks, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah” she focuses on him with an apparent effort. “Just a long day.”

“I see. Well, we can –” Ethan stops, spotting an object on the ground, and comments, “They left their box.” It’s an odd, elongated shape, solid wood. Going over, he reaches for it and senses some power curled within and biding its time.  

“I wouldn’t open that” Jenny joins him.

Curiosity tangles with self-preservation for a moment before Ethan settles on the former. “Probably right. Let’s get it inside.”


	29. Innocence

“Has Angel been here?” Buffy asks the moment she gets through the shop door. Must be skipping class, which makes Ethan think something serious has happened or chances are she wouldn’t, being more studious than she lets on in her stroppier moments.

“Buffy, it’s the middle of the day. And you’re the one who was with him last.”

The look Buffy fixes him with would reduce the average vampire to a trembling mess. Good job the slayer’s not allowed to hurt humans. “Ew. I can’t believe you guys did that location hex thing.”

“It was a location spell – if it was a hex it would have ruined the romance somewhat.”

“That’s just …it was none of your business.”

“We just wanted to see if you were safe. We didn’t know you’d both be in Angel’s bedroom.” At Buffy’s blush, Ethan adds, “Look, sod it: you can both fuck like bunnies with super strength every waking hour for all I care. It’s not like there’s anything else to do in this town.”

“We were just getting warm.” Buffy looks down at the counter, her fingers closing over a toad stone before releasing it, shoving it aside. “Look, if Angel shows up, can you tell him to call me? I’ll be in the library. Turns out the Judge is fully assembled so we need to figure out a way to kill him.”

Ethan stares at her. “Thanks for the head’s up. Good to know you’ll prioritise finding your boyfriend over warning me about impending doom.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, unless there’s a spell to stop the Judge, Angel’s kinda needed right now.” She frowns then. “ _Is_ there a spell to kill the Judge?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Could you do the location thingy to see where Angel’s gone?”

Ethan shrugs. “Alright. But next time there’s a demonic killing machine in town, you tell me that before you ask if I’ve seen your boyfriend.” He heads into the backroom, followed by Buffy who argues, “Ethan, the way things are going there won’t be a next time.”

“Oh come now.” Hastily setting out a map and a few yew twigs and seeing crystals, Ethan gives the girl a semi-stern look. “Despair isn’t very becoming.” Or reassuring.

Another eye roll. “Yeah, cause that’s my priority. Do you see him?”

“Give me a moment.” Holding up a hand for quiet, Ethan sinks into the magic. Drifts in it for a bit, a sensation like wading out to sea, that second before your feet can’t reach the sand.

Opens his eyes: The map is blank. “Hm”

“What?”

If he tells her Angel isn’t in town, she’ll panic. Last thing anyone needs is a panicked slayer, especially with a monster like the Judge on the loose. “It didn’t work.”

*****

Ethan takes longer at the shop than he’d like, gathering up a few supplies before heading to the library to help with the research party. Heading into the school, he’s almost knocked over by Buffy fleeing in the opposite direction. Manages “Wha –” but then she’s gone.

Ethan proceeds with caution: not just anything will make a slayer run. But the scene that greets him in the library confirms some sort of upset rather than some sort of massacre: Stunned-looking scoobies, Rupert pacing, Stephen somehow reading a book without moving his eyes and Jenny standing apart and lost in thought.

“Ethan” Brief relief lightens Rupert’s expression.

“Evening all. Something happened?”

Willow looks down at the table as though the question hurts, while Xander’s face seems to say, _You could say that._ Folding her arms, Jenny explains, “Angel has lost his sold” and doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Ethan stares at her. “Bugger”

Scarily, Rupert doesn’t reprimand him for the language, though Stephen glances up sharply before returning to his staring contest with the book. 

“How?” asks Ethan. Getting no response from Rupert, he turns to Jenny. She replies, “Probably some fine print in the curse.”

Ethan sits down heavily. So that was why the poor bastard didn’t show up after the location spell: not that he’s left town but that he’s been torn from this reality, leaving a shell for a very angry demon to fill. A very angry demon who doubtless wants to kill them all, in fact. Because things apparently weren’t bad enough. He says it again: “Bugger”

*****

“If someone had told me this morning we’d end up following Xander’s plan” comments Ethan, “I probably wouldn’t have got out of bed.”

“Standing right here.” Xander turns a disgruntled expression their way then turns back to Oz, who leans against the van. Ethan grins at what he assumes will be Willow’s disapproving look but she is blank-faced and focused on finishing the symbols. Right, yes, because the world might be over-run with demons if the Judge clears their way. Better focus.

Both of them are knelt a few feet from the military base and it’s raining. Never rains in Sunnydale but apparently even the weather is against them today, making the chalk symbols weep and now a soldier is marching towards them, his silhouette cutting through the downpour. “You guys broken down?” It would be an innocuous question if he wasn’t carrying such a very big gun. Oz straightens up and the soldier’s attention snaps to him.

“Just getting our bearing” Oz tells him mildly.

“Where you heade…Hey, what you got there?” This barked at Ethan and Willow who are still kneeling behind the barrier of Xander and Oz. Muttering a mixed curse and prayer under his breath, Ethan tugs a ram’s skull out his bag and sets it in the centre of the arrangement of rapidly smearing symbols, provoking a “What the fuck” from the soldier. Next, the candle. Shielding it with one hand and his body, Ethan tries the lighter with his free hand. Willow cups her hands around the wick too, as Xander tells the soldier, “It’s okay, we just – err”

“We’re here for the view” puts in Oz.

“Right” Xander re-joins. “We’re tourists. Tourists with, err, sheep skulls…”

As the soldier snaps, “All right, hands in the air!”, Ethan finally gets the candle lit. Raising his hands, Xander manages a squeaked, “Ethan?”, almost drowned out by the soldier’s command of, “You too! Drop that crap!” and Ethan, flustered by the shouting and the gun, almost forgets to say, “Cloak us”  

Catalysed by the command, the magic swells, as does the light, the little candle flame suddenly not minding the rain or suddenly seeming all that little. “What the hell is this?” manages the soldier, before the wave of magic hits him, sends him stumbling. Regaining his balance, he turns to Xander – and stares right through him. Xander freezes, staring back.

“Xander” Willow murmurs. The soldier doesn’t hear. He turns and walks away.

“Um. Yeah?” Xander comes over to the centre of the spell, while Oz clambers into the van, ready to be their get-away driver.

“Here” Willow stands up and pulls a print-out of the base’s layout from her pocket and hands it to him. When Ethan stands to take a look, Willow steps around him so that he is between the two teens, but Ethan has better things to think about right now than whatever the two of them have fallen out about.

It’s a clear but basic map, found by Willow while hacking into the military’s computer system. Between magic and computing she’s really come through for them today but it’s been slow going: after finding the spell and getting the map of the base, they need to get to the weapons quickly and the map isn’t all that clear where they are stored.

“It’ll be here somewhere” Willow tells them, pointing out a section labelled _restricted_ , “Or here” The centre of the base, hardest for anyone scaling the fences to reach.

“He won’t remember us, right?” Xander asks, looking back at the soldier who is now meandering back to the main gate.

“No” Ethan bends to scoop up the items arranged in what is now a puddle, leaving only the candle. Bundling them back into the bag he explains, “I added some Lethe’s bramble to the herbs.”

“Some what now?”

“Let’s just focus on picking out the right big-American-penis-replacement for the job. Something powerful.”

A relaxed sort of chaos reigns inside the base. Ethan wishes he’d tilted things a little more to the mayhem end of the spectrum but it will do. Soldiers mill about, dazed and content, some ineptly playing cards, some ginning at nothing, some dancing in the rain. Music blares from somewhere. A young man offers them a smile as they enter a likely looking building but doesn’t really appear to see them.

Selecting the weapon is harder than Ethan expected. They all look similar but each have a unique set of letters and numbers on the box, not to mention subtly different nozzles and workings when one looks closer. It doesn’t help that Willow and Xander still seem acrimonious tonight of all nights, terser with each other than simply disagreeing about the type of flame-thrower that might work allows for. Eventually, Ethan tells them, “Just pick one. This spell won’t last forever. Once the candle burns out, that’s it.”

“Fine. Let’s take the rocket launcher.” Willow taps the case in question and Xander – after a long glance at the flame throwers – shrugs his shoulders and lifts it.

*****

Several hours later finds them safely at home, the Judge despatched, Angelus, unfortunately, not. And between finding the layout, casting the spell, choosing the rocket launcher and trying to work out how to assemble the thing, they weren’t in time to beat the Judge and his entourage of vampires to the mall, which accordingly lost at least a few customers. Hard to tell how many, of course, the Judge not leaving much of a trace. It must be hellmouth magic that keeps people here, Giles decides. With the number of disappearances to ignore, it can’t be mere self-delusion.

He wishes he could slice through it, make everyone wake up and realise the danger they’re in.

It’s been a ghastly day. Innocents and innocent both lost. Buffy heartbroken and Angel – as they knew him – gone. And then there’s Jenny’s betrayal. Of all the times to lose one of their very few allies who isn’t a high school student.  

As if on cue, Ethan looks up from his book and asks, “So am I strictly forbidden from talking to her?”

“I can’t control who you talk to Ethan.” Giles puts aside the book he’s holding. Really, it’s only a pretence at reading. Knowing that it is necessary to find out as much about Angelus’ hunting patterns and history as he can doesn’t stop it also being a task that leaves him exhausted before he’s even begun. “If you want to talk to Jenny go ahead. You might ask her whether that’s her real name while you’re about it.”

“So cross, Rupert.”

“Yes, and given she merely spied on us all for months and failed to warn us that Angelus could rise again, I can’t think why.”

“Well it’s not as though you’ve ever taken a job at a public school in order to further the interests of a group of mystics the school board have never heard of. Oh wait.”

Standing, Giles inflicts a glower upon Ethan, who, busy choosing a new book from the pile on the coffee table, fails to notice. “I was sent by the Council to help safeguard humanity. She was sent by her relatives to ensure the continued suffering of a sentient being. It’s hardly the same thing.” Not that he’ll be avoiding Jenny Calendar altogether, of course. At some point, he’ll have to put aside anger and have a proper conversation with her about how to protect Buffy. Not that Buffy will thank him for that. Realising that a suitable compromise is sitting across the living room from him, Giles adds, “Perhaps you could ask her whether she’s quite sure there’s no way to replicate the curse. Just to check.” It had seemed very final, in that hotel room, with Jenny’s uncle splattered across the bed. But the old man had presumably been one of several people who’d dedicated their lives to ensuring Angel’s continued torment, and perhaps another of them might know something Jenny didn’t.

Just how bad had Angelus been, that even generations later, people took on aliases and faked friendship in order to continue his punishment?

Ethan flicks through a heavy volume seemingly at random before settling on a passage to read in detail. Nodding without looking up, he replies, “Will do”

Giles heads into the kitchen, fills the kettle and flicks it on. Soon the apartment is filled with the homely sound of water boiling. From the living room, Ethan asks, “How’s Buffy taking it?” and Giles busies himself finding teabags. “She’s devastated” He says flatly. Then, as he returns to the living room with two mugs of tea, he adds, “She’s young. She’ll be alright. She just doesn’t understand how just yet” For a time after Randall’s death, being alright meant simply being able to get up in the morning, dress and eat. Ethan knows this: he nods. Then he says, “I’ll get started on revoking his invitations.”

“Good Lord!” Nothing like a sorcerer fiancé to expose the shortcomings in Council situation management training. “I hadn’t even thought of that. He was in here once.”

“Well it’s a good job one of us has a healthy sense of self-preservation, Rupert, or who knows what we’d come home to find.”


	30. Phases

“…wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to fly a coffin internationally.” Jenny sakes her head, taking a heady drink from her mug, which contains a complicated and fashionable coffee Ethan didn’t catch the name of. “You’d think airlines could at least get it together when someone’s been eviscerated, but no. He’s finally back in Miskolc now though. Or at least his body is.”

“Miskolc?”

“Hungary” Jenny rolls her eyes as though living in Hungary was most unreasonable on her uncle’s part. “I’ve never even visited but it’s like I’m tied to that part of the world. From before I even cast my first spell they’d taught me about what happened there.”

“With Angel?”

She nods. “And all the rest of it. Not exactly easy to refuse to keep an eye on one vampire when your family’s been through so much to get you to the point where going to work as a high school computer teacher is even an option.”

“Have you called them since the curse broke?”

“To warn them? You bet. My parents suddenly want to go visit the clan in Europe: not much chance of him boarding a flight.” She shakes her head. “They’re on at me to come too but how can I? I can’t just run, I need to do something.”

“Buffy’s a bad influence on you.” On everyone apparently, or Ethan’s pretty sure he’d have drugged Rupert and got them on the next flight to London now too. Or possibly he doesn’t want to stay and help at all, and just knows Rupert wouldn’t forgive him.

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to run when you’re watching a seventeen year old stay and fight every day.” Jenny sighs. “She still hates me, right?”

“I haven’t spoken to her.” Ethan isn’t sure what he’d say. It feels like someone died. Well, they did in a way.

“She doesn’t know the whole story. And shouldn’t be expected to want to, with everything she has to deal with.” Jenny smiles tiredly at him. “I guess I’ll just have to deal with a pissed Giles.”

“Pissed _off_ Giles, if you’re being British. Pissed Giles is much easier to deal with.”

“Any tips?”

“Give him time to sulk and don’t talk to him in front of Buffy. Trust me, you don’t want to make him chose between your friendship and her…” _Friendship_ is too flippant a word to describe what Rupert has with his slayer, and _relationship_ sounds like Ethan has competition in the one area he knows he doesn’t “and her” he finishes. Then adds, “Oh, and redo the curse. That’d go a long way.”

Jenny’s smile wavers. “Sorry, Ethan. It can’t be done; I’ve checked. I even had my cousin speak to a seer in Paris and he just rambled about flames and staircases. Guy in a mental institution but…”

“…find us a decent seer who isn’t” Ethan agrees. Nothing to fuck someone up like knowing too much, he reflects. Just ask Drusilla.

He’s been reading a lot about Drusilla of late. Much as his feelings about Buffy border on petulant at times, Ethan feels a shiver of purest horror at the idea of Angelus trying that with her.

*****

Knowing that Rupert’s off on a werewolf hunt, Ethan goes back to the shop after Jenny says goodnight and stays late: that way, he has something to do besides worry, and the chance to get his paperwork (more or less) in order without taking work home. The flaw in the plan, he realises as he puts everything away, is that Rupert has the car and now it’s dark. Maybe he should wait: give Rupert a chance to get home, and then call him for a lift. That or see if one of his late-night customers turns up: any of them would make a useful escort, and, between werewolves and Angelus, an escort is needed tonight.

Sensing someone in the doorway, Ethan turns to greet what he expects to be one of the night crowd – and jumps. Actually, there’s nothing like glancing up and finding Angelus in the doorway of your shop to put the phrase ‘jumped out of your skin’ into perspective. When Ethan’s feet hit the floor again he straightens and tries briefly to look intimidating but quickly gives it up. He’s not going to out-intimidate Angelus. Angelus who of course steps right in. Panicked, Ethan tries to work out how he’s gotten round the protection spells. Then he remembers that one of the posters he let a group of sorority sisters put up in the window has _come party with us_ written on it, or something stupid like that, and how an invitation can invalidate a lot of barrier charms. Bugger. Well then, let’s party.

Angelus steps closer. “You know, I always did wonder what the watcher sees in you.”

“You and me both” manages Ethan.

“Buffy wonders too. She told me once.”

“The little bitch” replies Ethan without thinking. Then he wonders if it’s true. Angelus laughs and then turns around to shut the door. Next, he locks it, and at the sight of that, Ethan’s body releases enough adrenaline to make him feel physically sick. Turning back to him, Angelus announces, “I’m starting off with the people she doesn’t like so much. Not people she loves – not yet – just people she feels responsible for. And that’s the beauty of stalking a slayer, of course. She feels responsible for everyone. Let’s get started shall we? I’m thinking I could try hollowing your torso out and filling it with books. Do you think that’d work?”

For a second, fuzzy orange panic fills Ethan’s brain. When it subsides and he can see again, Angelus has moved closer and there are two words shining in Ethan’s mind: _Lythe’s Fire._ He has some almost ready in the back room: Willy wanted some for behind the bar, just in case. All he needs to do is add juniper seeds to the catalyst.

Back room then. But how to get there without turning this into an unequal chasing game for the vampire? As Angelus looms within arm’s reach, Ethan tries, “If she feels responsible for everyone, why don’t you go kill someone else? She’ll probably thank you for offing me.”

Angelus chuckles indulgently, and Ethan realises with a tilting sensation in his stomach that this isn’t the first time he’s heard his victims try to oh-so-casually talk their way out of his attentions. Maybe Lythe’s fire will take too long. But what else is there? A burning hex, maybe? But it’s not like Angelus will let him complete a chant. “Really” Ethan manages. “As far as Buffy’s concerned, I’m the evil sorcerer who turned her into a helpless princess.” He’s wasting his time, he thinks distantly. Angelus has Angel’s memories. He knows that’s not how it went down. And sure enough, the vampire replies, “Sorry, Ethan. I hope Rupert said goodbye to you when he left for work this morning, or he’ll be regretting it tomorrow. Well, that and hiring a cleaner who can get rid of bloodstains.”

“Probably loads of them in Sunnydale” Ethan supplies automatically, even though he’s busy thinking _you bastard you bastard you bastard_. He tries to smile but knows it winds up looking ghastly. Tries not to flinch as Angelus clamps a hand on his shoulder. Obviously fails. And now the vampire actually has him in his grasp and now he’s slipping into vamp face and oh fuck now he’s bending closer…

Ethan head-butts him as hard as he can. And runs.

*****

“Lythe’s fire?” Rupert shakes his head. “That has to be the most longwinded way of killing a vampire ever created.”

“Well it’s not like I’ve got a stockpile of weapons in my back room.” Ethan accepts a mug of tea and slurps it, hissing the hot liquid into his mouth before it’s cooled.

“Well you bloody well should” Rupert sits down beside him, keeping one hand on his shoulder.

“You know I’m no fighter, Rupert” Ethan gives his tea a few quick blows and inhales some more. Tea is very much needed. Hell of a run, all the way from the shop to home. Well homeish. “You would let the watchers send us to a hellmouth anyway.”

Rupert looks suitably guilty but he says, “I have a duty to Buffy, Ethan.”

Frankly, Ethan doesn’t want a row so soon after picturing Rupert grief-stricken, so he just shrugs. Rupert moves his hand from shoulder to back, stroking Ethan through his shirt. Absently he adds, “And clearly you’ve picked up some fighting skills since our move.”

Ethan shakes his head. “No. The head-butt came straight from that time outside that pub in Soho.”

“Ah. Well, at least I’ve rubbed off on you.”

“I’m tempted to reply with something very crude.”

“Naturally. But drink your tea first.”

Obedient for once, Ethan gulps more tea and then asks, “Did we say goodbye to each other this morning?”

Rupert frowns. “No. You were in the shower when I headed out. Why?” The question is put in a distinctly _I don’t want to know_ tone of voice.

“It doesn’t matter.” Ethan makes a resolution to say _I love you_ to Rupert every day before he leaves for work from now on.

Life being what it is, he sticks to it for about three weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update. It's been a long couple of weeks but I'm still writing.


	31. Bewitched Bothered and Bewildered

“It was so creepy” Willow tells Ethan, slotting a just-completed assignment into a folder she has out on the central table in his shop. “He didn’t even say anything he just stood there. And tapped on the glass.”

“He’ll have learnt that from Angelus” Ethan says grimly. “Just biding his time and winding you up like that.”

“I guess.” Willow bends to put the folder in her school bag and removes another homework assignment, spreads out pages of meticulous notes in front of her. Having her sat there is good for business as well a chance to mix homework with magic practise: a studious and not unattractive young woman writing among the books gives the place the calm, focused atmosphere of a private library. Not that there are any customers right now though, and that’s fortunate, since Willow arrived upset and has now spilled the story of Ford standing at her window all night. Trying to shift her preoccupation, Ethan tells her, “The important thing is he can’t get in without an invite.”

Willow smiles shakily and quickly gives up the attempt. Ethan adds, “And nor can Angelus now we’ve done the revocation.”

“Right” Willow agrees. “But the thing is, they could get one. I was thinking last night that at least it wasn’t Drusilla out there because honestly, she’s scary. But now I’m thinking maybe she’d be better: no way are my parents letting the crazy English lady in to use the phone but if it’s Ford or Angel acting all reasonable? And I can’t exactly tell them don’t invite anyone in in case they’re a vampire.”

Ethan frowns. “You’ve told Rupert about this, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, and Buffy. I actually thought about calling Buffy last night but I didn’t think I could explain my best friend beating someone up in our front yard if my parents woke up so I just called Oz and he kept me distracted.”

“How is Oz?” asks Ethan, more to have her focus on happy things than anything. Well, happyish.

“Oh he’s fine” Willow assures him. “Tired after everything but hopefully the second lot of transformations won’t take up so much energy what with him just being in the library cage.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “…and with that, I have another barrier spell to do.”

“Giles said the cage is strong enough.”

“Quite possibly it is, but I’m strongly in favour of not gambling our current no-one maimed status on the theory.”

Willow grimaces. “He’s still Oz, Ethan” she chides. “We’ve been dating nearly a year now; I’m not going to get all paranoid around him.”

“It’s only paranoid when it’s unreasonable” Ethan points out, “which a barrier spell between you and a werewolf isn’t.” Sensing her reluctance, he adds, “I’m sure Oz would agree.”

Willow frowns but argues no further. Thirty or so minutes of silence, broken only by the scratch of Willow’s pen, pass them by. Ethan pulls a blank sheet of card from a drawer at the counter and sets to work sketching a somewhat risqué Valentine’s Day card for Rupert. Technically, he should have had it done by today but between running a business and trying not to be eaten by the slayer’s ex, he’s thinks he can be forgiven for handing it over a little late.   

Eventually Willow leaves with a shrugged, “I like to be home early these days” and Ethan is left alone to close up.

The doorbell clatters (he never did round to replacing it) as a late customer enters. Ethan looks up. “Amy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The girl smiles without warmth. “I need canary feathers. The ones over in the Magic Box are blatantly fake. You got any? Oh, and some rose thorn.”

Ah. Ethan puts away his half-drawn Valentine’s card to buy time because this puts him in something of an awkward situation. “Love spell?”

“Got it in one.”

Yes: awkward indeed. On one hand, as a Chaos mage Ethan is obliged to, well, spread Chaos. Love spells certainly do that. On the other hand, if there’s one thing guaranteed to cause magical carnage in a day it’s a love spell, and Ethan actually has to live in this town. He’s seen how these things can unfold: Diedre’s little foray into the field of romance-tinted mind control back in ’77 certainly left an impression. On all of London. Deciding to at least make a vague attempt at talking Amy out of it, Ethan asks, “Wouldn’t it be better to let the young man in question come to you of his own accord?”

“He did” Amy replies flatly. “He asked me to do a love spell for him or he’ll start spreading around how I used magic to get out of one lousy assignment.” She shakes her head. “Believe me, I wouldn’t cast it on _him_.”

Ethan frowns. “So who is the target?”

“That would be telling.”

Ethan gives her look that he learnt from Rupert, the one that says, _better just to own up_. Apparently he can’t pull it off because at first, Amy stares him out levelly. Ethan stares back until she breaks with, “Look, I can’t have it getting back to any of the teachers! They’re not all completely clueless about magic: Mr Giles, Miss Calendar, they’d have me suspended if they found out. Or just put me through a load of supervision and crap. I can do without all that.”

“I won’t tell”

She gives him an incredulous look. “You’re literally married to Mr Giles.”

“Not literally.”

“Good as.”

Easy for her to say, Ethan thinks. Easy too for her to just walk out of here and get everything she needs somewhere else.  Whether he helps it along or not, this spell’s happening. Rack would happily sell her whatever she needs and so would a whole array of creatures at Willy’s Place. Gods, there’s the pet store for canary feathers if all else fails, and people’s gardens for the rose thorn. Ethan might as well make some money out of it.

Not to mention, Janus is bound to like the idea. Inconvenient that, or he could just take Amy’s money and then go to Rupert. Sighing, Ethan heads to the backroom, beckoning the Amy to follow. “These spells are dangerous” he tells her half-heartedly as they enter.

“I can handle it.” Amy replies. “Kinda interested to see if I can pull it off actually.”

“If you can catch a Sorrow-feeder, I’d say you can brainwash someone easily enough.”

“It won’t be permanent.” Guilt, or something bearing a passing resemblance to it, enters her tone for the first time.

Ethan opens a wooden chest of odds and ends: horns, shells, pieces of clay bearing scratched-in symbols, animal bones and… “Well you’re in luck. I think these are canary.”

Amy smiles and slips the bright yellow feathers into her school bag while Ethan produces rose thorn from a drawer.

After (over) charging her and seeing her on her way, Ethan wanders back into his office and scowls at the shrine. What now? Blithely let it happen? Even if he, Rupert and Rupert’s little band of teens escape the mayhem, there’s Joyce to worry about, and Jenny and Stephen. He has, Ethan realises, accumulated far too many people to worry about on a hellmouth. Not to mention he doesn’t actually want anyone dead, not even a stranger and this magic isn’t devoid of any chance of that. No, doing nothing is not a palatable option.

He could tell Rupert. Ignore Chaos and just come clean. Janus would sulk. And be less willing to help next time help is needed which could throw up dangers of its own; Ethan has invoked Janus in his magic almost exclusively for years and without that allegiance even the simplest spells have the tendency to fall flat, like trying to paint without a brush. And with his fingers gloved. No, best to not actively prevent the spell from happening.

He could at least warn the girl or boy the spell’s aimed at, if he knew who they are. Knowing that what they are feeling is false might at least keep them from violence except towards Amy and whoever has blackmailed her, who frankly deserve a scare. Not much chance of identifying the target though: with Amy as unforthcoming as she had been, it would take a truth spell and –

Oh. There’s a thought.

*****

Hearing the phone ring, Giles hurries into the library office. Given his recent findings about Angelus’ penchant for making an event of Valentine’s Day, he dreads hearing Buffy’s voice on the other end, but she sounds cheery: “Giles? Hi”

“Buffy. Has something happened?”

“Nothing supernaturaly. Just my mom’s car wouldn’t start and the school bus isn’t coming my way because of some road closure. You’d think they’d operate on the water mains at night but I’m not complaining – it makes for less high-vis dead guys. So I’m going to be late.”

“Do you need me to come and pick you up?” Giles asks.

“What? No, no. I’ll show. I’m already halfway there actually but I’m going to have to turn round because of major wardrobe malfunction. I just dived into the Espresso Pump to call you. I swear the universe doesn’t want me in school today.”

“I’m sure there are some gym clothes you could borrow if you came in now.”

“Giles, I’m a good slayer, why are you trying to punish me?”

“Sorry. I’ll, err, expect you later then.”

“Yeah. And maybe when you do you can get specific about how Angelus might want to celebrate Valentine’s Day. He sent me flowers last night.”

“He did?” A protective impulse surges through Giles that has no place in a watcher’s heart.

“Yeah. So I need to know what I’m dealing with; don’t hold out on me.”

“Alright. I’ll, um, I’ll have some first-hand accounts ready to show you when you manage to get in.” Really he should warn her against tardiness – Principal Snyder is, as ever, waiting for an excuse to suspend her – but compared to Angel’s threat it hardly seems to matter. Let her have a slow start to the day; where’s the harm in that in the grand scheme of things?

Once she’s rung off he starts the grim task of searching through old watcher diaries and collections of accounts of the activities of the most infamous vampires. He’d known, of course, that Angel would be in here, right from the moment the vampire first formed a bond with his slayer, but, assuming the soul was a permanent feature of Buffy’s vampire boyfriend, he’d never troubled to familiarise himself with them. Actively avoided it, in fact. And with good reason – it makes for horrific reading. From puppies nailed to stable doors to mothers abducted and sent home to their children in vampire form, Giles isn’t sure he’ll be able to sleep without the aid of a steeling drink tonight. Or a massage from Ethan, perhaps. Who he won’t tell any of these stories to.

Ethan left him a Valentine’s Day card this morning that was both a day late and exceedingly graphic. Presumably he was working on it last night because he was home late. Called first, of course, because they are more conscientious about that than ever these days.

Willow enters in a flap just as the bell rings for the second lesson. “Giles? I’m going to hide out in here. I can’t face going to English.”

“Willow, has something happened?” Giles hastily closes the book he’s reading before she can see the illustration of what Angel did to the Miller family on Valentine’s Day 1789. “It’s not like you to miss a class.”

“I know” Willow responds, “but I can’t face seeing Xander! I love him so much and it’s just torture knowing he doesn’t feel the same. I can’t live like this.”

Baffled, Giles manages a few stammering attempts at language. Willow adds, “Oh and something hellmouthy is happening – Xander and Cordelia just had this big fight in the cafeteria because Amy did a love spell.”

“Love spell?” Giles jumps to his feet.

“Yeah. For Xander on Cordelia. And then Xander told Cordelia about it and she still didn’t want him and I don’t understand why because he’s so perfect!”

“Willow” Giles takes off his glasses, polishes them in an attempt to stay calm. “Has it occurred to you that perhaps the spell has somehow affected you instead?”

“Well it has now!” Willow paces, welling up. “I thought what I feel for him is real! But if it’s all a joke I’ll –”

“I’m sure it’s not a joke” Giles hastily reassures her. “Please don’t get murderous” He pauses and frowns: he hadn’t meant to say that. Certainly she could become homicidal under a love spell, but he shouldn’t be so blunt about it. Aside from anything else, it could put ideas in her head. Noticing her helpless stare, he puts the slip from his mind. Blames it on the stress. “Amy did this, you said?”

Willow nods. “It’s not fair, Giles. She must have spent all night with Xander. Love spells can take hours; I read about them in Joakim’s Miscellany of Mystical Arts and Spell Lore.”

“Joakim’s Miscellany? That book’s well beyond your level!” Again, Giles notices himself being blunt and again he has better things to think about. “Where is Amy now?”

“Probably with Xander somewhere. Lucky skank.” Willow crumples into a chair. “I hope he’s okay. Cordelia was so mad.”

“Well she would be, given what he attempted to do to her.”

“But Xander wouldn’t hurt anyone! He’s so gentle and caring…”

“Willow, enough. Do you know where Amy is now? Or Buffy, come to think of it.”

“Buffy’s not coming in today; she paged me. She won a prize draw at the Espresso pump and got all these gift vouchers that can only be used today during school hours.”  Willow frowns. “I didn’t mean to say that. And now I’ve gotten her in trouble, haven’t I? I’m so useless, no wonder Xander doesn’t want me.”

“Gift vouchers that can only be used in school hours? That seems very farfetched.”

“I think it’s a person-specific general havoc hex” Willow shrugs. “What with everything else stopping her coming in today.”

“Yes, that sounds likely.” Giles agrees. Who would do that? “Who would do that?” And why is he suddenly unable to keep from voicing his thoughts out loud? “And why am I – gurh – oh sod it!” Shutting himself up with a monumental effort of will, Giles strides to the door, telling Willow, “You stay here! I’m going to find Amy and get her to reverse this spell.”

“But you can’t!” Willow calls after him. “If I don’t love Xander I’m nothing!”

Manging not to reply (which seems to be getting harder by the minute), Giles steps into the corridor. It’s buzzing with students. No-one seems to be in class. A few steps in to the bewildering mass, Giles bumps into Jenny.

“Have you seen Xander?” she asks.

“No.” Giles replies, “but when I do I’m going to give him a talking to that he won’t forget in a hurry. He’s only gone and infected Willow with a love spell!” He blinks and glances around: he said that far too loudly. Luckily everyone seems too caught up in their own dramas to notice. A few feet away a beefy school athlete is telling a slighter boy, “I only pick on you because I know deep down you’re smarter than I’ll ever be” and over by the lockers Stephen is telling a group of students, “You don’t want to apply for college here, this town is crawling with demons” Damn it: Giles tries to head over and intervene but he’s knocked aside by a girl who is pursued by a boy who calls after her, “Honey, it meant nothing! It was one time!”

“Then why’d you tell me?” She spins to face him.

“I didn’t mean to!”

She turns her back on him again, marches away. “Xander would never do this!”

In the time Giles take to dodge around them, Stephen has moved on, so he returns to Jenny who is watching the madness dispassionately. “It’s not just Willow” she tells him conversationally. “He tried to cast it on Cordelia but it seems to have infected everyone except her.”

“It’s _what_? He could be torn to pieces!”

“Hopefully.” Jenny nods. “He came in bold as anything this morning, walked up to her and told her everything. So now I’m stuck lusting after him even though I know it’s not real. I’m going to kill him for this.”

“I have to find him. And Amy.”

“I’ll deflower him first, of course. No-one that cute should die a virgin.”

“Come with me” Giles takes her by the arm and urges her along, “You might be helpful, despite your inappropriate attraction and tendency to betray your friends.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I’m just finding it very hard to trust you. And to watch my words.”

“It’s all right.” Jenny falls into step beside him. “This love spell seems to be bringing out everyone’s brutal honesty.”

“In that case, thank God Buffy’s skipping school. And I can assure you I’m not under a love spell.” Giles steers her around a group of girls, one of whom is insisting to her friend, “You heard what he said, it was a love spell: the only person who really loves Xander is me!”

“Well you’re under something” Jenny says and Giles supposes this is true. Jenny adds, “And for the record, I didn’t betray my friends. I didn’t know Angel would lose his soul and I’ve been trying to fix it.”

“It will take more than half-heartedly asking to help every so often to fix it” Giles snaps.

“I know that!” Jenny turns distractedly to a girl who is slumped in a corner, crying dejectedly. “Karen, you shouldn’t be wearing that choker; it draws attention to your neck.”

“Jenny, be quiet – we can’t tell them about vampires!”

“You just did” Jenny pulls away from him. “Come on, Karen, we need to find Xander.”

“Wait, Jen – Oh. Amy.” Giles turns his attention to the girl who’s just emerged from inside a classroom. “I think you have some explaining to do.” Without waiting for a reply, he takes the girl by one shoulder and steers her back through an increasingly riotous crowd. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing casting this spell and frankly I don’t care. What I care about is – Buffy!”

“Hi” The slayer in question, shopping bags in one hand, uses her free hand to gesture at the chaos the school is fast descending into. “I take it I missed some fun? Well, not fun, just, you know, what we call fun because it actually sucks. Huh: that’s weird, my sarcasm’s broken.”

“There’s a love spell underway” Giles tells her. “And, I suspect, a truth spell.”

“I only cast a love spell” Amy tells him. Buffy asks him, “And you didn’t think to call me? I’m the slayer!” She claps her hand over her mouth. Around them, a few students glance her way before going back to their own blazing rows or lovelorn ramblings. Buffy uncovers her mouth to flounder, “God, Giles, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that – it’s just – it’s too much, keeping this secret all the time it’s –”

“I know” Giles replies because his own secrets are pressing like crushed glass against the inside of his being, craving release. “Let’s get into the library quickly, before we do any more damage.” He sets out down the corridor, dodging a quarrelling couple.

“Is Xander okay?” Buffy asks, following him.

“I have no idea”

“Oh God! I really need to talk to him.”

“He might have found his way to the library.”

Urging Buffy and dragging Amy, Giles is able to manoeuvre the girls into the relative safety of the library.

Willow is in the book cage, testing the strength of a dagger against the paintwork. Giles dives for her. “Willow, give me that!”

“What? I’m just seeing how sharp it is so I can kill Xander with it!” Behind them, the door opens and Willow adds, “Hi Xander” She hides the knife behind her back.

“Giles” Xander pulls down a hood and takes off a pair of sunglasses. “I need help” He sidesteps an over-friendly Amy and yelps as Willow comes at him with the blade. “You jerk!” She screams. “How could you do this? I was just over you, I was happy with Oz and now you make me feel all this again!”

“Willow, I didn’t mean –” Xander cuts off with a confused whimper as Giles reaches for him and pushes him into the cage. “For your own safety” Giles him, locking the door. “You stupid, insufferable arse.”

“I deserve that” Xander nods.

Behind them, Willow hurls the knife. Giles ducks it and Xander yelps again, presses himself against the wall. Suddenly Amy is by the cage, her eyes dark with magic. “Get away from him” she grounds out, sparks swirling at her finger tips.

“Amy, no!” Xander shouts. Glancing at him, Amy reigns the magic in, her eyes returning to normal. Unarmed and sobbing, Willow simply stares at Xander. Giles takes the opportunity to lock the library door, glancing around first to ascertain that Buffy has retreated to the office rather than stepped outside. Probably for the best: if she’s infected with the love spell, things could get really dangerous, even more than –

“Willow, no! Please!” Xander cowers as the weapons in the cage levitate around him. Swearing, Giles grabs Willow by the shoulders, breaking her concentration. “Willow, think about this! He’s your best friend!”

“I am thinking! I don’t do anything but think about him!”

“If you hurt him, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!” Giles is vaguely aware of Amy behind him, chanting _Goddess Hecate…_

“I know I’ll regret it!” Willow sobs. “But if I don’t –” And the air around them is illuminated and Willow disappears. One moment Giles is holding her shoulder, the next moment, he’s holding nothing but her coat and…Oh. “Oh for God’s sake!” Giles tips the squealing rat Willow has become out of a coat sleeve. Behind him, the weapons clatter to the ground and there is a hysterical noise from Xander who calls over, “Giles, is she okay?”

“Shut up, Xander. I’m too angry to talk to you.” Keeping a firm but gentle grip on rat-Willow, Giles heads towards his office.

“Amy!” Xander gasps at the sight of the rat. “Change her back!”

“But she tried to kill you!”

Hoping that this is an argument Amy will win – returning Willow to her true form can wait until her homicidal delusion wears off – Giles pushes his way into his office and deposits Willow onto the desk, traps her under an empty mug. Buffy, the phone to her ear, glances over. Giles is about to ask who she’s calling when a hammering on the library door claims his attention.

A rumpled and bleeding Cordelia stumbles into the library as soon as he unlocks it, supported by Oz. “A group of girls attacked her” Oz explains. “Something about punishing her for breaking up with Xander. Weird day.”

“You!” Amy rolls her eyes but at least doesn’t seem to see Cordelia as a transfiguration-worthy threat. From inside the cage, Xander says, “Cordelia, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well sorry doesn’t cut it, you creep” Cordelia flinches as Giles helps her to a chair. “If I didn’t miss you so much I’d be trying to kill you right now.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first today”

“Good!”

“I’ll fetch the first aid kit” Giles tells her. Heading back towards his office, he finds Buffy still on the phone. He stops still as she says, “Yeah, mom, I know. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Buffy” Giles begins. She turns, fixes him with an almost-apologetic look, and slams the door in his face.

“What’s her deal?” asks Cordelia.

“She’s telling her mother that she’s the slayer!” Giles tries the door, but a determined slayer seems to be blocking it. “Buffy, let me in!”

“I can’t really blame her” Oz comments. “It would be easier if her mom knew. Has anyone seen Willow?”

“Amy turned her into a rat” Xander tells him.

“You what?”

Tuning out the unfolding row, Giles tries the door again. “Buffy!” He’s not getting in, he realises; not until Joyce knows all. And Cordelia’s still bleeding. “I’ll get the first aid kit from the staffroom” he tells her.

“You’re going back out there?”

“Yes”

“Good luck”

*****

“Ethan” Rupert’s tone is dangerous over the answer machine. Ethan dithers, reluctant to pick up. His one customer glances up, then returns to her perusal of the geography section. From across town, Rupert continues, “Ethan, I know you’re there you utter prat and unless you pick up the phone right now, so help me I’ll –”

“Hello Rupert.” Ethan puts the phone to his ear. Instinctively, he forces himself to sound carefree and cheerful because when Rupert’s already wound up it’s best to lean into it and force it to work itself out quicker. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Rupert snarls. “I should have known you were up to something when you came home late but I’d never imagine it would be something this bad!”

“In my defence –”

“Half the school’s hysterical, three students have been suspended for telling Ms Barton what they think of her –”

“I see, but –”

“There’re students and teachers yelling at each other in the hallways, the Principal’s gone into hiding –”

“Well –”

“Mrs Fields and Mr Price have outed themselves as having an extra-marital affair –”

“Oh – but – it wasn’t supposed to affect the adults –”

“The girls are split into those who want Xander and those who want to kill him –”

“Xander, really?”

“Jenny’s been warning the student body about Angelus in graphic detail –”

“Well, to be fair, that’s –”

“And I’ve had to barricade myself in the library because – in case you’ve forgotten – I have a secret identity to maintain!”

Bugger. “It wasn’t supposed to affect the adults.” Ethan repeats. Glancing at the customer, he takes the phone through to the backroom. “It was only supposed to affect students on campus.”

“Well apparently being mixed with a love spell has altered it. That or you can’t control your magic as well as you think you can.”

“Rupert –”

“I can’t believe you’d be this stupid! Well, actually, I can, but I’d hoped you’d resist it.”

“You, um, you spoke to Amy I take it?”

“Eventually I did, after I’d saved Xander from attempted murder! She told me all about the ingredients you sold her.”

“She was all set to do the spell either way” Ethan mutters. All of a sudden it doesn’t seem like all that sound a defence.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I did. But what could you do, Rupert? She wouldn’t tell me who it was aimed at. I just thought this way whoever it is could have some fair warning that what they’re feeling isn’t real.”

“And this has nothing to do with spreading – of course this has everything to do with spreading chaos – damn it, Ethan; your bloody spell won’t even let me be sarcastic!”

“Sorry, love.” Ethan sighs. “But at least you’ve successfully, um, barricaded yourself?”

“Is it too much to ask that my partner doesn’t have to resort to pointing out successful barricades to salvage a situation of his making? Wait, of course it is – given my partner is you!”

“Well, did the effects of the truth spell stay on campus?”

“Yes”

“There, see, that’s something.” Ethan relaxes a little. “And you’ve stayed in the library all day?”

“Aside from battling my way to the staffroom, yes. During which time I told that wretched Harmony girl I’m a watcher and told the vice-principal he’s an arrogant little sod. Ethan, if you weren’t so good at sex, you’d be back on the sofa tonight.”

“I…think that’s the truth spell talking, dear. So you haven’t outed yourself as a watcher to anyone else, yes? And Buffy, she’s…”

“Told dozens of students that she’s the slayer! And her mother.”

“Oh” Ethan is, he realises, going to have to be very good at sex indeed to make up for this one. “Bugger. She wasn’t supposed to get to school today.”

“Your little hex wore off and she came in”

“And, what, found Joyce on campus?”

“She phoned her” Rupert explains, his tone somewhere between exasperated and furious. “And now she’s here throwing herself at Xander.”

“Joyce or Buffy?”

“Both!”

“Well…I don’t suppose you’ll let me make the case that this is Xander’s fault?”

“Just get over here and undo the damn thing, can’t you? While we still have secrets to save.”

*****

Finding the school in a state of riot, Ethan heads back out the door and lets himself into the library through the tunnel in the stacks. He is greeted by an odd scene: Rupert and Amy are midway through urging Hecate to undo the love spell, watched by a bandaged Cordelia, and by Oz who appears to be cradling a rust-coloured rat. Meanwhile Xander is locked in the book cage while Buffy leans against the door whispering seductively and Joyce alternates between watching the spell warily and adding her own flirtations to Buffy’s, to Buffy’s obvious disgust.

Pausing within the stacks, Ethan watches as Hecate obliges them in lifting the love spell. There is a shifting in the air and then Buffy steps sharply away from the cage, Amy scowls at Xander and Joyce shakes her head, blinking rapidly. Only Cordelia seems unmoved. Stepping forward, Ethan greets them with, “Hello all”

Seven disgruntled pairs of eyes turn his way. Rupert says, “There you are. We’ve undone the love spell so now we just need to lift your bloody truth spell and return Willow to her natural form.”

“What’s happened to Willow?” Normally, Ethan would try to sound more casual, but the truth spell is still saturating the campus and won’t let him hide his fondness for the girl. Oz holds up the rodent he’s been petting. “Amy turned her into a rat.”

Ethan frowns. “That was unnecessary, Amy.”

“She was about to kill Xander! I still think it was necessary even now I’m not in love with the guy. God that was embarrassing. You didn’t tell me the spell could do that!”

“I didn’t know” Ethan joins them at the table. Amy replies, “Yeah? Well I want my money back!”

“Oh, get over it” Cordelia rolls her eyes. “You were all ready to help Xander humiliate me, I think this is called karma.”

“Yeah” Buffy agrees. “I’m not about to lose sleep over your consumer rights at this point, Amy”

“I never meant for you to get caught up in it” Amy tells her.

“Yeah, ’cause I can kick your ass. Are you okay, mom?”

“No” Joyce sits down. “I’m very confused. That…” she gestures to the counter-love spell set up on the table, “that looked like a spell, didn’t it? But that can’t be possible.”

“Why not?” Rupert asks gently. Joyce turns a steely gaze on him and replies, “Because if magic is real, then demons might be real. And if demons are real then my daughter might really be some sort of superhero destined to die for the world. And that’s about the only thing worse than my daughter being insane and you feeding her delusion.”

“It’s real mom; I was telling the truth.” Buffy sits down beside her. “I literally couldn’t lie right now.”

“Because of a truth spell?” Joyce asks, in the tone of a lay-person trying to grasp advanced quantum physics. “Oh but that doesn’t seem possible! It can’t be! If magic were real, it would change everything!”

“It does” Ethan can’t help but put in. “It happens all the time.”

Ignoring his interjection, Buffy adds, “Think about it, mom. You must have noticed things around this town you couldn’t explain. Think about Darla.”

“It…it was a barbeque fork” Joyce quietly insists. “The doctor said it was a barbeque fork.”

Wordlessly, Rupert steps away from the table and unlocks the cage door. Xander steps out of it and stands apart, eyes downcast. Somewhere out in the hallway, there is a shout and the sound of running feet.

“I don’t get it” Cordelia says. “I’d have thought a truth spell would, you know, let people see the truth.”

“It does” Ethan tells her. “But that doesn’t mean they’re ready to accept it.”

She scowls at him. “I wasn’t asking you. You tried to profit off of brainwashing me.”

“I didn’t know it was you” Ethan argues. “I only did the truth spell so whoever it was could be warned.”

“Oh. Well, just Amy and Xander I need to ignore forever then and ignoring Amy’s easy. She’s a loser.”

“I’m more powerful than you’ll ever be” gripes Amy. Speaking so quietly they almost miss it, Xander asks, “What about ignoring me?”

Cordelia eyes him. “Harder” she says shortly. “But I’ll get over it. I actually like you, but I’m not going to date someone who was all ready to hex me and dump me for a revenge-trip. Not without some serious grovelling, at least.”

“Got it” Xander nods. “Serious grovelling.”

“Um, guys?” Oz places the Willow-rat carefully on the table but maintains a gentle grip around her. “How about we show Mrs Summers some real magic? Plus I really need Willow back.”

Rupert clears a space around the rat. “Yes, good thinking, Oz. Ethan, assuming you want me to forgive your stupidity – again – this would be a good place to start.”

“It wasn’t stupidity.” Ethan mutters. “It was rather impressive overall. Chaos will be pleased.”

“Well I’m not” Rupert folds his arms. “Now get on with it.”

*****

Once the truth spell wears off, the silent treatment begins. Ethan endures it until nightfall, when Rupert announces he’s going to patrol for Buffy. Apparently, Angelus is particularly prone to striking on Valentine’s Day and Rupert has decided to shield his super-powered charge by patrolling instead, because that makes sense, given he is without super powers, short-sighted and middle aged. “Fine” Ethan replies, “but I’m coming with you.”

“But I’m not talking to you” Rupert replies.

Ethan winces. “Left over from the truth spell?”

“No, just actual bluntness. I’ll see you later.”

“Not if Angelus kills you, you won’t, and I don’t want to say goodbye on a row.”

“Try not cursing the school then.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “How about we just set it aside for now and patrol together? Or actually get the row out the way first.”

“That would take all night”

“No it wouldn’t – we should know the script well enough by now to race through it: You’ll say _I can’t believe you’d be so reckless_ and I’ll point out that no-one was hurt –”

“– Well Cordelia was mobbed –”

“– And you’ll say _magic is dangerous_ and I’ll say I know that and you’ll complain about my religion and I’ll complain about your job and you’ll sigh and tut and I’ll sulk and then we’ll fuck and make up.”

“It’s not so simple.”

“Or make up and fuck. And then patrol.”

“You’re envisaging very brief make up sex then?” Rupert allows himself the very faintest of smiles and for a moment, the day looks salvageable, but then he sighs, lets the smile fade and says, “Ethan, one of the most basic things I asked of you was you didn’t tell Joyce about Buffy.”

“And I didn’t. Technically. I tried to keep Buffy away from the school.”

“And failed. And now Joyce knows about her daughter’s fate, knows about the Council and watched a transmogrification spell play out in front of her eyes!”

“I really wish we’d thought to find Willow some clothes first.”

“You realise she may take Buffy out of school? Or leave town with her? What mother wouldn’t try to fight fate when it singles out her daughter?”

Behind Ethan, the phone rings. Actually slightly grateful at the interruption, he answers. “Hello?”

“Ethan, hi. Is Giles there?” Buffy sounds ever so slightly shaken. Ethan hands the phone to Rupert. “It’s Buffy”

*****

“The police wouldn’t tell me her name” Buffy says as they watch the body bag being loaded into the van. “But, lucky me with slayer senses, I overheard them talking.”

Giles says nothing, sensing that she needs time to let this out. Staring after the vehicle as it pulls away, Buffy says, “Her name was Georgia Clayton and she worked in a shop just off Main Street. Graduated Sunnydale High a few years back.” She blinks hard and adds, “Blonde like me. He tore her heart out, Giles.”

Now he has to say something, but Giles isn’t sure what. Reassuring Buffy that they will stop Angel won’t help; it is her that will stop him not them, and she also lost her heart to him, albeit in a thankfully less literal way.

Buffy asks, “What if he’d had an invite?”

“He doesn’t. Buffy, you and your mother were safe inside.”

“And Georgia wasn’t. God, what if he’d lured mom out? Before tonight I mean. She wouldn’t have known.”

Guilt tainting his thoughts, Giles awkwardly asks, “Your mother, how, um…how is she?”

Buffy sighs. “I kinda thought I was getting somewhere with the whole _sacred duty I actually have to stay in this town no I can’t give being the slayer to someone else_ thing we were having over dinner. Then we found the dead girl on the porch.”

“Would it help if I spoke to her?”

Buffy frowns. “Maybe. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Of course. Tell her to come to the library if she has questions.” Now the truth is out, it may as well be comprehensive.

“Oh, she has plenty of those. I should warn you she kind of hates you.”

“I, um, kind of hate me, at times” Giles admits. “I wish you could give being the slayer to someone else.”

“Not your fault I can’t” Buffy gently reminds him. After a few moments she seems to gather herself. “I should get back to mom. Make with the damage control.”

“Of course. You’ll call me if you need anything?”

“Sure” Nodding in the direction the authorities took off in, Buffy asks, “So is that Happy Valentine’s Day to me? Will it go back to normal level slow-motion vampire stalkage tomorrow?”

“I…I think so yes.”

She nods sadly. “Right. Lucky me I guess.”

It is only after she has stepped inside that Giles notices the shadow at the end of the street. As he pauses with his hand on his car door, Angelus steps into the pool of light spread out under a street lamp. Grinning like a mischievous school boy, he waves before strolling away.


	32. Passion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 2 episode 17, Passion written by Ty King, and some is from BtVS season 2 episode 22, Becoming Part 2, written by Joss Whedon.

Ethan is in the Magic Box changing a couple of fifties when Jenny Calendar walks in. Dumitru is always happy to help with that sort of thing along with recommending accountants and reminding Ethan about bin day and other tiresome chores that come with running a shop, and all he asks in return is a captive audience to talk about his children to. Hence Ethan still standing at the counter with a fixed and forced look of interest on his face when Jenny enters. Listening to stories about other people’s children is more than payment enough for everything as far as he’s concerned, and it’s not as though he doesn’t have enough of it from Rupert.

“Hi Ethan”

“Jenny. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m actually up to some good. How about you – Giles forgiven you yet?”

“I think I’ve managed to wheedle my way back into his good books.” It helps of course that Buffy is convinced her mother is safer for knowing and telling Rupert as much, but Ethan likes to think it’s also down to his inherent charm and skillset…

“Any non X-rated advice for those of us still in his bad books?” asks Jenny.

Ethan grins. “Still ignoring you like a stroppy teen, is he?” Or appeasing an actual stroppy teen, but that’s not something Ethan can quite bring himself to call Buffy out loud, given how tragic and forlorn she’s been looking since Angel was usurped.

“Yep” Jenny does what can only be called a sarcastic smile. “But he did ask me the time yesterday, so we’re making progress.”

“Well, much as I’d like to help you make it faster, your non X-rated prerequisite rather limits my advice. Though he might thank you for interrupting Joyce’s visits now and then. I understand she can be ferocious.” Ethan has avoided the gallery since recent revelations came to light. If Joyce were to ask why he didn’t tell her about the supernatural, he honestly isn’t sure what he could say. Truth is, it’s simply been easier not to mention certain truths, including Buffy’s secret identity and he doubts he’d keep his giftshop discount if he admits that.

Jenny pulls a face. “Poor woman: it’s a lot to take in.”

“Well, so is she, when she gets going.”

Jenny laughs. “Give her time.” She glances at Dumitru but he’s unpacking an order of soapstone figurines and humming to himself. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to you today. Could you meet me at the school later? I’ve been working on something and if I can actually get this computer program to work I’m going to need a caster for the next stage.”

“How intriguing. Care to tell all or do I need to wait?”

“You gotta wait. I’m still not sure it’ll work.”

*****

Only pulling up in the school car park after spinning Rupert some story about getting his accounts done in the office, does Ethan realise this may have been a Bad Idea: it’s dark, the pretentious Latin above one of the doors is more or less an invite and from the looks of the building, Jenny is the only one inside. Why couldn’t she have invited him to her place? Safer, and it probably has drinks suitable for adults.

Sighing, Ethan steps out of the car and decides not to lock it: the chances of it being stolen seem lower than the chances of him needing to get back in it quickly. He sets out across the car park, glancing cautiously around he goes.

*****

“Sorry Jenny, this is where you get – argh!” Angelus flinches back as unformed magic sears past his face.

From the bottom of the stairs, Ethan stares, frozen. Hasn’t been this scared since Eyghon took Randall – discharged raw magic then, too, in fact. At Angelus’ growl, all he can do is whimper. Jenny, meanwhile, takes the opportunity to pull free of the vampire’s grasp and knee him hard in the nether parts. Distantly, Ethan is aware that that will be funny later, a thought that quickly gets dislodged by the need to _run_. But he can’t. Fear has him frozen in place. Then, half jumping, half falling down the stairs, Jenny is beside him, her insistent tugging on his sleeve spurring him into action. They flee.

Skirting around a pile of spilled mops, they run back up the corridor Ethan came down, where the cloying smell of smoke is fast fading and Jenny, still gripping his sleeve, pulls him towards a classroom. “In here!”

Ethan finds himself stumbling into the room the fire apparently started in: Jenny’s computer lab. Behind him, Jenny is slamming the door and Angelus is banging into it on the other side. Jenny shouts, “We need a barrier!”

Reaching in his pocket for his chalk, Ethan spots a filing cabinet and has another idea. “Jenny” He heads back over to her, adding his weight to the door, which is trembling as Angelus pushes against it, snarling. Hands clasped, they manage to levitate the cabinet to wedge against the door, spilling files as it tilts, but a firmer blockade than their own bodies could have made. Out of breath, they both collapse beside it.

“Magic supplies?” Ethan pants, aware that the vampire could still get in the window if he thinks to go outside.

Jenny points vaguely. “Desk drawer”

Ethan staggers over and, between chalk, Jenny’s crystals and herbs and the inherent mercy of Janus, circles them with a protective barrier.

At some point, Angelus stops banging on the door. The silence they are left with is ominous, broken as it is only by the dying computer. Luckily the fire hasn’t spread. After a few moments, Jenny gets up and douses it with a fire extinguisher. Gestures upward. “I need to report these smoke alarms.”

Ethan nods, despite being past caring about health and safety. “It didn’t occur to you to do this at home?”

“My computer wasn’t up to it” Jenny goes over to the desk and starts rooting amongst its scattered contents.

Ethan gestures to the beat-up machine on the floor. “And that one was?”

She actually smiles. “It was. I did it. I just need…”

“Congratulations. You did ‘it’ whatever it was, and all it took was us both almost ending up dead!”

“Worth it, trust me.”

“Um. Given you were about to be drained, we’re trapped in a recently on-fire building and you’ve just said my death would be worth it, I’m going to go with no!”

“I had a floppy somewhere; can you see it?”

“A what?”

“Floppy disk. I had it just…Damn it.” Jenny starts plucking papers off the desk, searching underneath them. After a few moments of apparently fruitless searching, she adds, in a gentler tone, “You saved my life, you know. Quite the hero.”

Actually, all Ethan had done was expel unformed magic uncontrollably out of sheer panic – the magical equivalent of pissing one’s pants. Not that he’s about to tell Jenny that. “Welcome” he says, gruffly. Then he asks, “How do we plan to get out of here?” No chance the vampire will get bored and wander off. There may be no sound from beyond the door now but all that means is he’s waiting them out, or moved to the car park to try and get in another way.

“Might be best to stay here ’til morning” Jenny replies. “He’ll have to leave before sunri – Oh” Crouching down, she slips a hand under the desk and stands up again, grinning. “Here it is” She waves a little disk triumphantly.

“Wonderful. I’m not staying here all night.”

“Well, you could always look outside and check he’s gone…”

Ethan pulls a face. “Don’t suppose you have a phone?”

“Sorry Ethan, we – oh wait” Jenny makes a universal _I’m such an idiot_ gesture. “See this is what fear does – I’m a computer science teacher and it didn’t occur to me to send an email!” She steps over to one of the non-burned computers and presses a button, types in a code.

“Who’s enough of a square to be picking up email this time of night?” Ethan asks.

“I can think of someone”

*****

“We came as soon as we could” Willow tells them a short time later. Behind her, Buffy and Xander peer into the room. “Where’s Rupert?” Ethan asks.

“He must have gone over to the shop to look for you” Buffy replies. “I think we just missed him”

“More to the point” asks Jenny, “Where’s Angelus?”

Buffy shrugs uneasily. “Gone before we got here.”

“That’s bad right?” asks Willow.

“I’d say” says Xander. “He wouldn’t pass up the chance to snack on these guys unless something interesting came up.”

“Maybe he just figured you three were coming” Jenny says, but she sounds doubtful.

“Well” says Buffy, “either way, let’s get you guys out of here. Come on.” Halfway out the door, she pauses. “What were you doing here, anyway?”

Ethan turns to Jenny. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

Smiling, Jenny holds up the disk again. “Buffy, I have something to tell you.”

*****

Far from the excitable teenaged babble Ethan might have expected, Buffy is quiet at the news, tentative, as though at any moment this hope could be snatched away. She joins Jenny in her car, along with Xander, and Ethan is left to transport Willow to the flat, where presumably Rupert has by now returned to phone Buffy in a panic about finding the shop empty. Ethan frowns: best get back quickly.

As they pull out the car park, Willow asks, “You okay?”

“Yes” Ethan tells her. “And so immensely glad you picked up that email. Never stop being a computer geek, will you?”

“I won’t” She smiles. “So do you think this spell will work? Like actually?”

“It worked before, didn’t it?” But privately, Ethan has his doubts. It worked once before – just the once. Not something one just does and then on to the next curse. “It’ll take some powerful magic.”

“Neat”

They all arrive at the flat at the same time and head down the steps to the courtyard, Buffy still silent, Jenny silent too, though her silence has an edge of smugness to it while Buffy’s is all nerves. She is first to tense at the figure on the doorstep. Ethan stares.

Ford. Ford waiting for them on the doorstep. On the doorstep of his home, him and Rupert’s. Behind them, everyone else stops still and the silence takes on a new quality. Ford grins. “Welcome home”

Before Ethan can say it, Buffy speaks for him: “Where’s Giles?”

In answer, the vampire lazily tosses something to her. She catches it one handed, looks at it with a frown and passes it to Ethan.

Rupert’s glasses. Broken. _Wherever Rupert is_ , Ethan thinks with icy clarity, _he doesn’t have his glasses_.

Buffy advances on Ford and he holds up his hands, giggles almost casually. “Now, now, Summers. What do you think will happen to your old man if I don’t return?”

Buffy pulls back. “Where is he?”

Ford shrugs. “Enjoying Angel’s hospitality at an undisclosed location.”

Ethan feels the bottom drop out of the world. Buffy asks again, “Where?”

“That’d be telling. ’Course, it wouldn’t matter if you could find it: you try to get in and he dies fast. Er than we’d like.” He giggles. “You can get him back though, easy.”

_Good_ , thinks Ethan, _Anything. I’ll do anything_.  Buffy asks, “How? What do you want?”

“It’s about what Angelus wants” Ford points at Jenny. “Her”

_Oh_. _Oh, well if that’s what it takes_. Ethan turns to Jenny but someone pulls him back and slips between them. He realises that at some point between seeing the glasses and this moment he’s taken Willow’s hand and squeezed, and now she’s squeezing back, a squeeze that says, _wait_.

Buffy stares from Ford to Jenny and back. “How about me?” she asks finally. “Will he take me instead?”

“Buffy” Jenny gasps. “No!”

Ford just grins infuriatingly. Buffy steps closer and adds, “Come on, one on one with me. It’s what he wants.”

“You wish” Ford winks. Steps towards her in turn. “You’ve got an hour.” He reaches in his pocket and hands her a slip of paper, nods at Jenny “to get the gypsy to this address. A second longer than that and the watcher dies.” With that he leaves, making a show of brushing past them, leering and grinning, as he does.

*****

“He knows I could restore his soul” Jenny explains to them, sitting at Rupert and Ethan’s dinning room table. “God knows how but he does. He must have gone looking for a bargaining chip as soon as he realised he couldn’t break through the barrier. He can’t take the chance of letting me live.”

“He can’t really believe I’d hand you over” Buffy stands a little apart, arms folded in a way that tries to look tough but comes off as hugging herself. “For the master manipulator this feels a little desperate.”

Jenny shrugs. “Well he is desperate. The demon doesn’t want to play second fiddle to a soul again.”

Buffy nods. “And no chance this is a trap? Is he really expecting a prisoner exchange?”

“Who cares” mutters Ethan. Unlike the others, apart from Buffy, he is not sitting at table. He’s pacing in front of the fireplace, mouth dry and heart thudding. He wonders if he might be sick.

“Oh absolutely it’s a trap” Jenny nods. “He wants to trap you into choosing to send someone to her death and then afterwards resent Giles for getting caught.”

“He was looking for me. He went out to look for me” Ethan says, pointlessly.

“That or kill us both when you try to hand me over” Jenny adds. “That way there’s no-one left who’d care about restoring his soul.”

“He’s right about that much” says Xander. Willow looks at him sharply but doesn’t object. Turning back to Jenny she asks, “But Angel doesn’t know you have the backup disk, right? So we could do the spell before the hour’s up. Angel – I mean the real Angel – would never hurt Giles.”

“More than he already has by now” adds Xander. Ethan wishes he could throttle him.

Jenny nods. “Yeah. We could try that.”

Xander shrugs. “Well it beats just handing you over.”

Jenny flinches, runs a frustrated hand through her hair. “But I don’t know how long cursing him would take! And we need an Orb of Thesulah. Angelus smashed the one I had at the school.”

“Oh” Ethan manages. “Paperweight” They all turn to look at him like he’s gone mad, though he feels he could be forgiven that in the circumstances. “Rupert’s got an Orb of Thesulah” he explains. “Uses it as a paperweight in the library.”

“Then let’s go” says Buffy, clearly more than ready to leap into action. Apparently, she can’t stand this keeping still like it’s a normal night approach that the others are trying either. She looks at Jenny. “Anything else we need?”

Jenny holds up the disk. “A computer”

“Let’s all get back to school then.”

Everyone stands up. Ethan asks, “And our plan B for if we can’t get the spell to work?”

Jenny gestures to Buffy. “Then I’ll go with Buffy like Angel wants”

“I won’t let you” Buffy tells her. “If the spell doesn’t work we’ll just have to improvise.”

“Improvise?!” Ethan spits. “This is Rupert’s life we’re talking about!”

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to him, Ethan.”

“It’s happening right now!” Ethan points to the weapons chest in the corner. “How about you just do the traditional staking? I could do a location spell, I can find out exactly where he is. You could get to him before they even realise they’re under attack! We don’t need to curse him again, you just want us to!”

“You’re right: I do want us to” Buffy states. “But if wherever they’ve got Giles is as heavily guarded as I think it is, I might not make it in and out with him in one piece. This curse could be our only chance.”

“And it’s, what, just a lucky coincidence that it’s also your only chance to get your lover back?”

“Yeah. It is. Look, if you think for one second –”

“Guys” Willow cuts in. “We’re wasting time.”

She’s right, Ethan realises. He looks at the clock: they have fifty two minutes.

Heading out the door, an idea occurs: “We should go to the shop” he tells them. “It’s closer, there’s a computer and Dumitru will have an orb we can borrow.” Dumitru won’t be around this late but Ethan has no qualms about breaking into the Magic Box under the circumstances.

“Good thinking” Buffy replies. “Plus no way for the vampires to disrupt things.”

Piling into the car, Jenny suddenly exclaims, “Oh God – Mr Dumitru! That must be how they knew I was recreating the curse!”

“You think he betrayed you?” Buffy straps herself in as Ethan speeds away from the curb, not worried about Dumitru because there isn’t room for that amid the worry for Rupert.

“No” Jenny is saying. “He doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Maybe they just worked it out” suggests Xander.

“Yeah” adds Willow, “or Drusilla realised. She is psychic, isn’t she?”

“I just hope nothing’s happened to him.”

As they pull up to the shop, Buffy is out the car before it even stops. “Willow, Xander, you go help Miss Calendar set up. Ethan, we’re getting the orb.”

As expected, the Magic Box is closed up for the night. But unlocked.

Glancing at each other, Buffy and Ethan slip inside. The shop bell rings merry as a taunt above their heads. Immediately, Ethan is hit by the smell: metallic and meaty, cloying. An Eyghon smell. Beside him, Buffy wrinkles her nose. “Dumitru?” Ethan calls out. “You there?”

No answer. Ethan yelps as something brushes his legs and scampers out the door. Buffy frowns. “Was that a puppy?”

“Don’t know” Ethan feels around for a light switch. Sidestepping something on the floor, Buffy finds it and all the lights come on at once.

A tiny doll with a missing hand stares at Ethan from among hanging rows of dried herbs. He doesn’t immediately notice Dumitru at his feet. Sticky blood pools around him from a wound on his stomach and his eyes are wide and unblinking.

After a momentary shudder, Buffy is walking past him. “What do these orb things look like?”

*****

Pilfering an orb from the Magic Box’s basement, they return to Ethan’s bookshop to find the others in the backroom. Jenny has the soul restoration spell up on the computer screen and Willow is setting up the sacred circle, assisted by Xander. All that remains is to place the orb in the centre.

“Was Mr Dumitru okay?” asks Willow and Ethan replies, “Let’s take a look at this spell.”

“Oh. Not okay then.”

“Sorry, Will” says Buffy.

Xander asks, “How long do we have?”

“Not long” replies Jenny. “But now we have the translation, we should be able count on Angel to rescue Rupert as soon as he’s restored.”

“Not a lot that can go wrong there then” mutters Ethan, hating the vampire, and all vampires and the hellmouth and the world in general at this precise moment.

The restoration spell is deceptively simple, just a trance, a chant and a channelling. Jenny asks Ethan, “What do you think?”

“I think it’s lack of complexity suggests it will somewhat intense.” There’s got to be some reason, after all, why this isn’t done routinely when someone is sired, why the world isn’t crawling with soul-infested vampires.

“So let me help” says Jenny.

Ethan shrugs. Jenny may have made it clear that she’s more a dabbling pagan than an actual witch, but she knows her stuff and any help could make the whole thing go faster. Besides, there’s a chance the magic will recognise a member of the Kalderash Clan.

Facing each other, they sit down at the chalked circle on the ground. A third person plonks herself down beside them. Jenny frowns. “Willow”

“I want to help” Willow tells them.

Jenny shakes her head. “This is dangerous magic.”

“I’ve cast before”

“Not like this, you haven’t: The first spell you do –”

“It won’t be my first spell!”

“But it will be your first attempt at higher level magic.”

“And I’m ready!”

“That’s not what I mean.” Willow turns to Ethan, who is sitting with his head in his hands wishing they could just _bloody get on with it_. “Ethan?”

Ethan stares blankly at her. Realising after a bewildered moment that she’s asking permission, he attempts to tally the situation in his head, her inexperience against her promising talent against the danger – but hits a solid horror that won’t let him think about anything else. Rupert is at the mercy of Angelus right now. “Fine” he says. “You can help” Ignoring Jenny’s expression, he takes Willow’s left hand in his right. Jenny’s right hand grips his left.

Buffy opens the door to leave. “I’m going to go to get to the docks; that’s where he wants to do the exchange. Good luck, guys.”

Nodding, Ethan closes his eyes. Reaches inward for the magic.

*****

Without his glasses, Giles can’t be entirely sure how many vampires are in the room. They all wear black clothes and blend into the darkness unless they talk. And only Angel seems to be allowed to talk. He knows that Ford’s been in and out, watching proceedings with a barely concealed glee. Knows that Drusilla is the one mopping his brow between rounds and that Spike briefly wheeled himself in only to shake his head in apparent annoyance and leave again. But as to how many others line the wall, Giles couldn’t say. Only knows that there are some, shuffling and growling off to the sides as Angel bends over him. There is a smell of blood, and Giles wonders if that is Angel’s breath or his own – is nose was broken early on. Apart from that they’ve left his face alone.

It’s his fingers Angel has been most interested in. Giles wonders if the vampire knows he plays the guitar. Probably. Vampires are naturally observant, a predatory trait. Without even meaning to, the Angel they knew previously must have noted all sorts of details about their lives the handful of times he was in their home.

Ethan wasn’t in the shop. He’d called to say he was working late and he hadn’t said where, but when he didn’t beat the sunset home, Giles had gone over there. And Ethan wasn’t there. Where is he? Have they got him too? No, Giles tells himself, no. They’d say. Gloat about it. Wherever Ethan is, he is safe. He focuses on that.

“…they didn’t even have chainsaws” Angel is telling him. “So we’ve got a lot to look forward to if your slayer doesn’t show.”

Some exchange has been offered, Giles has worked out from the offhand comments Angel has made in an impression he’s been doing of friendly chatter in between the pain. For some obscure reason, the vampire wants Jenny Calendar and he, Giles, is the bargaining piece.

Amid all this, there is magic being cast; Giles is aware of preparations being made for protective spells. Drusilla keeps issuing cryptic instructions to puzzled minions, leaves the room periodically to cast and returns crackling with magic to stroke Giles’ hair and lick his neck. “All for nothing” she whispered to him at one point, “all falling away like sand” and Giles had assumed she was referring to his calling, to the fate of the watcher tied to the chair, until Angel snarled and sent Drusilla away to check on the wards.

No mention in any of his readings of the vampire relying on magic before. Was that just an oversight in the records? Or is something happening that’s got Angel scared?

And why Jenny Calendar? In all likelihood, Angel just wants to test Buffy: Will she hand over an innocent to save him? Will she use her slayer strength to capture someone she knows and bring her to this den of monsters? No, Giles could tell him without doubt. Hasn’t of course. He’d rather be tortured than dead.

Would rather be dead than turned. Giles shudders: that is the real danger here. Let them snap his fingers, let them threaten chainsaws. Just don’t send him back to Ethan and the children hungry for their blood and screams.

There is a dull thud at the back of the chair he is tied to as Angel drops his hand on it, bends closer. “Twenty minutes” he says. His tone is conversational but Giles picks up on some unease. Can’t make sense of that so he puts it from his mind, focuses on not feeling the pain. Hellish just learning this technique but he’s grateful for it now. Wishes he could tell Ethan, who had been horrified at that part of his training, that it is finally proving useful.

Wishes he could talk to Ethan about anything, even for a minute. Just to hear his voice.

Angel is still pacing. _Just because you’re the one restrained_ , his fieldwork coach back at the academy would tell him, _doesn’t mean they have the upper hand._ Giles focuses on that, on his calm and Angel’s restlessness, his odd but increasingly apparent desperation. Not wanting to risk hastening his own demise by pointing out that Buffy is not about to hand Jenny Calendar over, Giles tries to keep things neutral with, “Why Jenny? What do you want with her?”

Angel ignores him.

“Revenge, perhaps?” Giles tries. “On the Kalderash? But then, why bring Buffy into it?” 

“I could cut your tongue out” the vampire replies lazily, still pacing. Giles shuts up. Coming to a sudden halt, Angel turns to him and says, “Yeah, why not? I’m not going to let them get me without leaving something permanent. A memento.” He laughs suddenly. “And if she hands over the gypsy then all the better. We’ll just peel you off the floor and hand you back. I can’t wait to see the look on her face.” He grins and it’s only a little forced. Giles knows he can hear his heartbeat inside his ears and knowing that Angel can hear it too only increases the thudding. When Angel calls for the chainsaw, Giles honestly wonders if he’s about to have a heart attack. Probably better than death-by-chainsaw, that.

Hard to keep from throwing up when the thing is produced and revved by a vampire who appears from the shadows. But as Angel takes the heavy tool in both hands, he seems struck by a new thought. He puts the chainsaw down again, and Giles is briefly thankful until Angel tells him, “Then again, I could turn you” he slips into his vampiric visage – Giles can’t see it clearly but he hears the crunch and slither of it because Angel’s face is suddenly that close to his own. The vampire continues. “You could be like Dru. My envoy, even when I’m muzzled. She’ll never forget me then.” A giggle off to one side; Drusilla is back in the room. Angel leans closer still. “What do say, Rupert? If you wake up quickly I can still swap you for the gypsy and we can take bets on how long it takes the slayer to notice.”

No, no, no. Not this. Please not this. Giles closes his eyes though its not much comfort: he merely swaps one darkness for another.

Then Drusilla cries out, a sound of abject sadness. Angel spins round and Giles opens his eyes. This close, he can make out the startled expression on the vampire’s face, the way his form tenses. Drusilla slides down the wall at the side of the room – well out of Giles’ range of vision but he hears the rain-like sound of her dress against the brickwork – and murmurs, “It’s coming”

“No!” Angel growls. Desperation twisting his features, he turns to Giles, grabs him by the shoulders and sinks his teeth into his neck.

Pain rushes in, quickly followed by a vicious chill. Tied, all Giles can do is endure it. Consciousness starts to fade far to fast.

Then something happens. Faint as he is, Giles isn’t sure precisely what. Magic, is all he can tell, and something new in the room, some altered quality to the vampire suddenly breaking away from him with a cry of “Giles!”

Drusilla wails. There is a confused shuffling from the vampires lurking around the perimeters of the room when Angel unties him, but they don’t intervene. Drusilla, though, comes over to grasp at Angel’s hair and clothes. Whether the contact is a feeble attack or a possessive embrace, Giles couldn’t say. Angel grips her wrists and slings her away. Finishes untying Giles with a murmured, “It’s okay, Giles, I’m getting you out of here.” He presses his hand to the bite-mark.

His soul, Giles realises suddenly. He must have his soul back. Dizzy from blood loss, Giles doesn't find the idea as vital as he would have done a few minutes ago, but it is nevertheless the only explanation. Well, that or he has gone quite mad and is hallucinating this whole thing, but that doesn’t seem very likely; Giles thinks he’d been holding up rather well, all things considered.

It is only as Angel half drags, half carries him to the door and Drusilla springs after them that the other vampires react. Dumped on the floor as Angel fights them, Giles tries to stand and quickly stills as the room spins: best not to pass out under the circumstances. He finds and grips the wound at his neck, helpless as the struggle unfolds around him.

Five of them, he reckons from the noise. Then Ford rushes in and it’s six. But Angel has just fed – on him – and is a more experienced fighter than any of them…and now he has hold of the chainsaw. At it’s noise, Giles shudders, drags himself away until he hits…a wheel. Oh God.

“Going somewhere?” Spike enquires politely. Clamping a hand on Giles’ shoulder he calls out, “Drusilla? Leave him pet, let’s go!” When Drusilla doesn’t respond, he lets out a put upon sigh and shoves Giles aside, moves past him.

Giles finds he can’t move from his sprawled out position. Somewhere in the room the growl of the chainsaw briefly stutters amid the hiss of a vampire dusting, then groans on. At least one of them decapitated, then. Hopefully not Angel, but between blood loss and the absence of his glasses, Giles can’t make out what is happening: it’s just a lot of fast-moving bodies. The noise of the fight is more tangible: snarls and the rumbling roar of the chainsaw as it takes out another vampire. Drusilla is still around – she’s crying – and Giles can distinguish Spike by the casual insults he tosses at Angel as he drags her away. They pass close by Giles and Drusilla’s high-heeled boot kicks out, catches his side, though he can’t tell if that is deliberate malice or simply her attempts to escape Spike, who is somehow dragging her and wheeling himself away from Angel’s wrath. Once he is at the door, he barks an order for the rest to follow. Apparently a few still regard him with some authority, because at least one set of feet retreat, leaving Angel fighting with those who don’t hear or don’t care to obey. As the retreating vampires rush past Giles, one lifts him off his feet but Spike calls over, “There’s no time, Ford, leave it” and Giles hits the ground again.

Another hiss as another vampire dusts. Can’t be many left now. A crack and thud and the chainsaw noise splutters out, leaving only the raw sounds of fists on skin and supernaturally strong creatures flinging each other about. Giles tries again to rise, blinks as the rooms swings.

Behind him, sudden shouts and growls, another fight, elsewhere in the building. And a bright-clear voice: “Where is he?”

Buffy. Thank God.

A wall’s width away, Spike answers the question: “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, slayer, we didn’t hurt him. Your lover-boy did.” Renewed wails from Drusilla.

“Where is he?” Buffy repeats and Spike tells her, “In there.”

“And Angel?”

“Same. You’re sodding welcome to him.”

Then, running footsteps, lighter than the vampire lackeys, and coming towards him now, and Giles opens his eyes to see, “Buffy!”

“Oh God, Giles, don’t try to speak!”

He must look rather ghastly, Giles realises. He can’t make out his slayer’s expression but he can see her eyes from the limited light from catching in them: wide, staring. He reaches for her, hoping to pat her shoulder reassuringly, and she catches his hand and squeezes it briefly before pulling her jacket off and wrapping it around his neck. “Did you drink? Giles, did they make you drink?”

“No. No, Buffy, I’m…”

“Shh. Don’t try to talk.”

Somewhere in the room is a final hiss, and then silence. Buffy whispers, “Angel?”

Heavy footsteps.

“Buffy” Angel sounds stricken. “How did you…” He stops, and Giles senses him crouch down. “Giles…Oh no...I didn’t mean… I mean, I couldn’t…Is he alright?” 

“He will be” Buffy replies, and Giles takes that as his cue to pass out.

*****

Only with the luxury of not being terrified for Rupert does Ethan realise they’ve just performed an extraordinary feat of magic, and it was mostly Willow shouldering the force of it. Intense and brutal, the spell had flowed through them like nothing Ethan had felt before, spinning their consciousness into realms unexplored, and spitting them out again with dizzying force. Even when they’d come up against Drusilla’s protection spells, the sheer power of the spell simply burst straight through and they’d felt Angel’s soul flow past them in the moment before the spell ended and they were left breathless and bewildered on the office floor. Some spell.

And in all of it, it had been Willow’s power Ethan had sensed, Willow’s power that allowed them to tap into such forces, Willow who had channelled Angel’s soul and Willow who had brought them safely back to themselves.

Rupert will be worried.

Ethan smiles because Rupert will be worried and not long ago he was scared that Rupert wouldn’t be anything again. But here his partner is, safely tucked into a hospital bed after several transfusions, and so definitely going to be alright that Ethan has thoughts to spare for Willow and her magic.

Rupert is covered in bruises and worse, but he’s managing to sleep. Ethan hopes he isn’t dreaming of Angelus. He passed out in Buffy’s arms but it’s the painkillers keeping him under. His fingers are broken. Ethan has to be careful not to hold that hand. But he’s alive. Right now, nothing else matters very much.

*****

“Morning, love” Ethan fixes a smile to his face as Rupert comes down stairs the next morning. It slides off again when he realises Rupert is dressed. “Rupert. You really had better have a good reason for having your clothes on.”

“Well I thought it best not to go to work naked.”

“I already called in sick for you.”

“What? Ethan –”

“We only got home two hours ago!”

“I’m perfectly alright! I need to –”

“– go back to bed and sleep for another ten hours? Yes, you really do.”

“Wh – ten hours?!”

“At least” Ethan takes Rupert’s elbow and begins steering him back towards the stairs.

“You’re overreacting” Rupert mutters.

Ethan wonders if there is such a thing as overreacting to your partner being tortured. “No. Don’t think so.”

“I really am fine.”

“Say that after another twelve hours of sleep and I might at least consider believing you.”

“It was ten hours a moment ago!”

“But then you started saying you’re fit for work, so clearly you’re delirious.” Ethan guides Rupert up the stairs and finds the bed covers just as tangled as the sound of tossing and turning earlier had suggested. Reluctantly, Rupert sits down. “I need to speak to Buffy”

“She’ll call”

“I need to see she’s alright. Maybe I could go in at lunch, say I need to collect something?”

“I can do that for you.” Ethan pulls at the duvet, shaking and tugging it into a comfortable tameness. “Now lie down.”

Rupert stares down at the semi-made bed. “I’m not sure I can sleep.”

Ethan nods and manoeuvres him into a horizontal position anyway. Pulling the duvet back over him and patting his shoulder, he sits down on the bed beside Rupert. “Just try, love. For me.”

Rupert regards him sulkily. “I have been trained for this” he insists. “I knew how to shut the pain off.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. Ethan nods encouragingly. “But it’s over now” he points out. “Now you can rest.”

“Where’s Angel?”

Ethan scowls. “Don’t worry about that just now.” Now the vampire has spared Rupert he can take a long walk in the sunshine for all Ethan cares.

“His soul is restored, yes? That’s what happened?”

“Yes” Ethan confirms, trying not to worry that Rupert seems to have forgotten about being told all this last night. Memory loss was possible, the doctor had said; the mind shielding itself from trauma, blurring events into something manageable.

Rupert asks, “Did you do that?”

“Yes. With Willow and Jenny.”

“Jenny…he was after Jenny.”

“Yes, because she worked out how to curse him again. But she’s safe; she’ll be at work by now I expect.”

“He wanted to turn me” Rupert tells him. “He must have known the soul was about to be reinstated. The demon must have wanted to leave a lasting legacy.”

Ethan shudders. “I’d have killed him” he mutters.

“But instead you gave him his soul back” Rupert muses.

“That was mostly Willow” Ethan is keen to distance himself from the act. “And it was nothing personal. I just wanted him to let you go.” He tugs the duvet tighter around Rupert’s shoulders. “Now, I believe I said something about you sleeping for fifteen hours?”

“Fifteen? You’ll turn me into a fairy tale damsel at this rate!”

“Rupert, I think you’ll find that if this were a fairy tale, you’d be playing a more heroic role.”

“Not last night” Rupert replies. “He overpowered me in seconds.”

“And he didn’t break you” Ethan insists. “Here you still are.”

“Yes” Rupert gazes up at him, awake and unhappy. Ethan strokes his face with the confidence of years of perfecting just the right way to soothe Rupert Giles into sleep. Rupert closes his eyes and seems to relax a little but then he starts and opens his eyes wide. “Could you…could you not…”

Ethan nods and withdraws his hand, even though he’s inwardly seething at the realisation that the vampiric bastard must have touched Rupert’s face in a cruel parody of affection. “What if I just hold your hand?”

Rupert smiles. “That would be nice.”

Ethan slips his hand into what he’ll have to learn to call Rupert’s good hand. “You get some sleep, love. I’m right here.”


	33. Killed by Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 2 episode 18, Killed by Death, written by Rob Des Hotel and Dean Batali.

“Buffy’s been so down since it happened. I mean, she never gets sick.” Joyce glances around the waiting room and adds in an undertone, “Is that a slayer thing?”

“Yes” Giles replies. “As is enhanced healing, so all the more reason not to worry.”

“I guess that’s a plus” Joyce nods, but she looks worried all the same. “But if she’s stronger than most girls and this still happened, it just goes to show how much this thing with – Angel, is it? – How much it took out of her, how run down she got.” With a glance at Giles’ splinted fingers, she adds, “I’m sorry; thinking about all this is probably the last thing you need.”

Honestly, Giles thinks what he needs is for people to stop mentioning it; Ethan, the children and now Joyce – they keep looking at him like he’s broken. It doesn’t help.

Bizarrely, only Angel has treated him the same, coming over a few nights ago to stand in the courtyard (that he ever had an invite is laughable now; the bitter kind of laughter) to share his insights into Spike and Drusilla’s likely next moves, speaking quietly, not meeting Giles’ eye, but not treating him as though he’s damaged either.  

Luckily for Angel, Ethan had been out. Actually, he hasn’t mentioned the encounter: Forgiveness is not one of Ethan’s virtues, especially not when it comes to anyone hurting Giles. Touched as Giles is, he also can’t help but feel a little reduced by his partner’s attitude.

Because he really is fine. Or will be. Has to be, in fact, so he may as well get on with it. “I’m alright” he manages.

Joyce nods. “Well, if you need anything”

“Thank you”

*****

Hard to tell if Buffy is asleep or not, since she’s lying on her side with her back to him. Ethan assumes she’s out and doesn’t speak, stands no closer to the hospital bed than he has to as he places the vial on the bedside table.

Buffy rolls over. “Hello, Ethan.”

“Oh. Hello, Buffy. I brought you some Gwynedd’s fire.”

“Some who’s what?” She sits up and examines the vial.

“It’s like holy water” Ethan explains, “but without the bother of getting a priest on-side.” He’d have brought Lythe’s fire except that takes even longer to prepare and Buffy’s collapse was rather sudden. Not to mention Marvin sometimes avails himself of the hospital’s refrigerated blood and Ethan doesn’t particularly want the one barman he can trust not to poison him reduced to dust by the more potent spell.

Buffy turns the vial over in her hands. “Thanks”

“You need to spit in it” Ethan tells her, “Once the sun sets.”

“Ew” She puts it back on the table.

“It’ll only be your own spit” Ethan points out.

“Magic can be really gross, can’t it?” She sits up a little. “Speaking of gross, have you ever heard of a demon only children can see? Creepy laugh, waxy skin, bad need of a dentist?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell” Ethan sits down in a chair against the far wall. “Have you asked Rupert?”

“Yeah, he wasn’t sure what it is. But he’s researching it with Willow at the library.”

“I see” Of course she’s dragged Rupert into this when he’s supposed to be healing. Then again, knowing Rupert, he’s probably welcoming the distraction. Rupert knows where he is with books and demons, so books about demons are practically therapy, or at least as close to it as Ethan can hope Rupert will ever get.

From the bed, Buffy adds, “And Xander and Cordelia are looking into it too. And, um. And Angel’s searching the sewers under the hospital.”

“Is he now?” Ethan breaks eye contact and stares at the far wall.

“Yeah. He’s been…around. The hospital I mean. Not much natural daylight in here.”

“More’s the pity.” From the periphery of his vision, Ethan sees Buffy’s expression shift. She replies, “You were the one that helped restore his soul, remember.”

“I do. While we’re reminiscing, remember how I was all for you just dusting him and you insisted we try the restoration spell first?”

She nods slowly. “Right. We’re not going to agree on Angel then. But can you help me find this demon? There’s a map of the hospital on the wall outside.”

“Sounds like you’ve already got plenty of help.”

“It’s killed a little girl, Ethan.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Fine. Give me half an hour.”

He lets himself into the Magic Box for supplies. Officially, the place is no longer a crime scene, and Dumitru wouldn’t mind. All the blinds are still down and the place is dark inside. Like it’s still waiting to open. Most of the actually-magic items are behind the counter; the rest is tourist tat that paid the bills. Dumitru had been both slightly puzzled by, and grateful for, what he called new-agers.

After helping himself to the required items plus a few extras that Dumitru would (probably) want him to have, Ethan checks the street carefully as he leaves: it’s getting dark and it’s not as though Angel’s renewal ridded them of all the master vampires in this town.

He returns to the hospital within the appointed time. Buffy is alone and greets him with a smile. As Ethan spreads the map of the hospital over the floor at the far end of the room from the bed, she sits up and leans forward to watch. “You can come closer, you know. I promise not to sneeze on you.”

“Buffy, you’re a slayer and in hospital with this bug and I’m an ordinary mortal on the wrong side of forty. I’ll stay here.”

“You’re actually saying I’m too diseased for you come near me?”

“Precisely. Now hush a moment. I need to concentrate.”

Concentrate on not a lot, as it turns out. There’s a group of vampires in the storeroom and a Lei-Ach demon hanging round the geriatric ward, but nothing else.

“Great” mutters Buffy. “We’ll add that to the _maybe Buffy’s just got issues_ hypothesis.” She sighs. Mutters, “These kids saw _something_.”

“Maybe the something is in the sewers?” asks Ethan in a spirit of appeasement. The map only shows the ground floor up.

“Maybe.” Buffy nods, looking very serious. “Hey Ethan? I’m not going to ask you to talk to Angel, but could you ask Xander to? He’s out there with Cordy somewhere. Just get him to tell Angel about these vampires and lay-ark thing.”

“Alright” Ethan agrees, but he finds himself delivering the message himself. Well, the part about the Lei-Ach demon, anyway. Honestly, Ethan can’t see the harm in letting the vampires help themselves to bags of O-neg in the storeroom. Worse things they could be getting up to than theft, as the creature now clambering out of the sewer entrance would know all about. “Hello, Angel.”

“Oh. Hello Ethan.” The vampire cleans himself up and steps closer. Ethan tells him, “I’ve been sent to let you know there’s a Lei-Ach demon in the geriatric ward. Looks like it’s lying low in a supply cupboard. Or at least it was half an hour ago.”

Angel nods. “I’ll see to that. Could do with a fight.”

“You didn’t have enough of one with Dumitru?”

Angel flinches. “That was Dru.”

“Ah, I see. So only your progeny sent to do your bidding. Nothing to do with you at all really.”

“I didn’t say that” Angel drops his gaze. Ethan wishes he wouldn’t look like that, like a kicked and recently rabid puppy. He asks, “Does Joyce know you’re hanging around?”

“I don’t know” Angel replies.

Interesting. Ethan nods, turns to go. Pauses long enough to add, conversationally, “You realise you’re lucky I don’t turn you into a cockroach and stamp on you.”

“I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t; you’d be a stamped-on cockroach.”

“I’m sorry, Ethan.”

Gods, but he can fuck off with that apology. The demon isn’t sorry and the soul wasn’t present when the demon was torturing Rupert, so any apology is simultaneously insincere and nonsensical so far as Ethan can see.

Angel adds, “I owe you a debt for giving me my soul back.”

“Why does everyone think that was me? Willow was the one who –” and Ethan stops because he doesn’t want the vampire going after Willow if he ever finds himself sans soul again. Not that being targeted himself sounds all that fun. He says, “It was nothing personal. I’d have used any curse to make you let Rupert go; that one just happened to be to hand.”

“I’m still grateful.”

Ethan stares at the vampire until he meets his eye, looks away. He wishes he could see it, the demon beneath the soul but, looking into Angel’s eyes, all Ethan can see is soul: horror and remorse and a crushing sadness. A veneer, all of it, he tells himself. Scratch the surface, and there’s Angelus.

Turning to leave, he stops again to ask, “Don’t suppose you killed Buffy’s demon while you were down there?”

Angel shakes his head. “Whatever it is, I couldn’t see it. I thought I could sense something for a moment though.”

“Well, find it out. Make yourself useful. Save Rupert and Buffy the bother.”

“I intend to.”

*****

“It’s, err, lovely” Rupert says when Buffy shows him the drawing one of the young patients from the hospital sent her.

“Mom’s going to put it on the fridge.” Buffy smiles from amid her nest of blankets.

“You’re feeling better?” Giles asks anxiously.

“Yeah” she replies, quickly adding, “Not patrol better.”

“Of course not.” He isn’t exactly battle-ready either, so Giles forces himself to ask, “Can we count on Angel to step in?”

She nods, her expression sobering. “Yeah. He told me last night he’d do a round of the cemeteries.”

Last night? “He was here? Did you, um, invite him in?”

Glancing away, Buffy nods. “Nothing happened, Giles. I mean, we just talked.”

“I, um, I didn’t ask…”

“Yeah, but you wondered.” Buffy sits up a little straighter, dislodging a blanket or two. She looks terribly young, curled up in her pyjamas, minus the make-up and attitude. No wonder Joyce hates him for sending her into battle. She tells him, “Look, I get that we can’t go there. But that doesn’t mean… It’s complicated.”

Complicated and dangerous, Giles reflects, but he presses no further. For one thing, Buffy knows now to be careful and for another, he really can’t face thinking about it. Has to, eventually, but not tonight.

Offering a sympathetic smile, Buffy asks, “What about you? How are you?”

Giles scowls. “I’m alright, Buffy. As I keep telling everyone.”

“Well you might have noticed we keep asking.”

“I certainly have.” A sudden rush of resentment fills Giles’ mind: He is not going to play-act their idea of a victim just so they know what to say to him.

Oblivious to his anger, Buffy goes on: “I get that you won’t want to talk to me about this. And I get that you won’t want to hear about Angel. So, moving on, yes? Unless you do want to talk about it?”

“Buffy, I understand that you can’t help being Californian, but believe me, talking doesn’t heal everything.” At this moment, Giles can’t imagine anything worse than going over that night, solidifying it into words…

Focus, he tells himself. To his slightly sheepish slayer, he says, “What I want is for you to concentrate on healing. We still have Drusilla and Ford to worry about, not to mention Spike. He won’t be in that chair forever.”

“No rest for the wicked, I guess. Or, you know, me.”

“I’m afraid not.”

*****

“How is she?” asks Ethan.

“She’s on good form again” replies Rupert. “Wanted me to bear my feelings so I beat a fairly hasty retreat.”

“Well, perhaps –”

“Ethan. Don’t.” Rupert lowers himself slowly to the sofa and puts his feet up. He hasn’t been sitting upright this past week; he lies and perches, leans and slouches, puts his feet up, kneels, puts his arms over the back of the sofa but he never simply sits. Been eating at the kitchen counter since it happened. He might as well have _They tied me to a chair_ written across his forehead but of course he hasn’t actually confirmed it out loud. He’s been very Rupert about the whole thing, quiet and forbearing. Ethan joins him on the sofa, lifting Rupert’s feet and putting them on his lap. Rupert asks, “I don’t suppose you’ve tried to locate Spike and the others again?”

“No. Gave up after the third attempt yesterday. Wherever they are, they’ve got shields up. Or they’re moving around.” Ethan frowns. “Or left town.”

Rupert shakes his head. “I don’t think we can pin our hopes on that. According to Angel, Drusilla is likely to distraught at losing him, lashing out.”

“Putting a rather high degree of importance on himself there, isn’t he?” Ethan pauses. Asks, “When did you speak to Angel?”

“He spoke to Buffy” Rupert doesn’t meet his eye.

“Right” Ethan doesn’t hide his doubt but Rupert still pretends not to notice it. Ethan wishes, suddenly, that he could pull Rupert off the sofa, march him out the door, get in the car and drive to the airport. Go home.

Rupert adds, “As for Spike, Angel’s less certain. But it’s entirely possible he’ll still want to kill Buffy.”

“And what about Angel?” Ethan presses. “Hanging around Buffy like a lovelorn whelp. How long until they rekindle things?” He hates the pained expression that crosses Rupert’s face but it needed to be said.

Rupert tells him, “They’ll be careful, Ethan They know now not to, um…”

“Fuck his soul out?”

“Tactfully put. Yes.”

Not the only way to unadulterated happiness, that, and Ethan knows it. So does Rupert, though he doesn’t say it. Though he does add, “We’ll be there to counsel them, too, if things become, err, intense between them.” He frowns. “I’ll have to speak to Jenny about that. Buffy might be more likely to open up to her. She was clearly uncomfortable talking about Angel to me.”

“She noticed that he almost killed you then.” 

Rupert shifts, lifting his feet from Ethan’s lap and pulling him closer, wrapping an arm around him. “Ethan. I know you’re feeling protective –”

“– Good, I’d hate for all this protectiveness I can’t even act on to go unnoticed –”

“– but I need you to let this go. I need to focus on supporting Buffy. And so does Angel. Our aims align.”

“Oh Gods, you’re not about to give me a speech on duty, are you?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m just telling you what I need.”

Ethan sighs. “Fine. I suppose I could resist transmogrification spells. I haven’t forgiven him though.”

“I’m not sure I have either” Rupert admits. “I’m simply trying to be sensible about the situation.”

“Sensible might be pointing out that at some point they’re both going to want to have sex.” Ethan says.

Rupert’s expression saddens. “I rather think I don’t need to. They’ll work that out for themselves soon enough.”


	34. I Only Have Eyes For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 2 episode 19, I Only Have Eyes for You, written by Marti Noxon.

With poor Dumitru gone, Ethan is dividing his time between the Magic Box, which he manages on behalf of Dumitru’s widow, and the bookshop, which should be out of his hands soon enough. After that, he will be managing the Magic Box full time, his life reoriented towards magic as surely as the tide responds to the moon.

Rupert is worried about the danger inherent in running a magic shop in Sunnydale, but Rupert can hardly lecture anyone on dangerous career choices.

Although most of the people who’ve come in since the place reopened have been adults – three parts tourists, one part actual casters – Sunnydale high students are not absent among the customers. As well as Amy there have been a pair of awkward, scrawny brothers apparently under the impression that the succubi summoning charm they bought will actually work, a thuggish looking youth sent after supplies for his warlock grandfather, a helping of budding new-agers and an eclectic collection of those tuned in enough to want protection spells.

And now of course there’s Willow. She smiles as she steps over to the counter. “Hey Ethan. I need some stuff for scapulars.”

“Ah, yes: Rupert wouldn’t shut up about your new poltergeist last night.”

Willow looks anxious. “I hope he isn’t getting stressed out?”

“No, I think he rather likes it. Aside from the murder, that is.” Typical Rupert, excited about the classics. Ethan could kiss this ghost for showing up just as his partner needs a project. Almost a shame to exorcise it, but apparently that’s what they’re doing. “Which Banishing are you trying?”

“A Mangus tripod – Miss Calendar got the idea from a pagan website.”

“Would sulphur be alright? You’ll all stink but I don’t think there’s anything else along the right lines in stock.”

“I guess that would do. I mean, school’s closed so no-one’s going to be grossed out except us.”

“School’s closed?”

“There was a snake issue. Dr Gregory was really excited about it. Well, and Xander, once they closed the school.”

“Right” Ethan beckons her towards the basement. “Let’s check what we’ve got down here.” He switches on the light, revealing a small room crammed with boxes of fake demon skulls and plaster figurines, as well as fossils, crystals and miscellaneous paraphernalia scattered across a table. “I haven’t had time to sort through everything.”

Willow steps into the room, grinning around. “Wow, look at all this…Actually look at how much is actually magic and it’s kind of like a Where’s Waldo puzzle.”

Ethan nods. “Most of the business comes from the uninitiated. But there are a few useful things” He hefts a box down from a shelf and sets it on the table. “I’ll just check and see if we have any selenium before we resort to sulphur.”

“Thanks.” Willow edges among the boxes, picking up and examining an elm-wood chalice before getting distracted by a large crystal. Two-handed, she holds it to the light, examining its innards of cobwebby flaws. “What about the bookshop?”

“I’m in talks with a bloke from one of those chains that does coffee and bestsellers.” They’ll take over the premises and a friend back home can probably be persuaded to buy most of the rarer volumes. Apart from the occult books, of course – those are moving to the Magic Box.

After sorting through a few boxes and drawers, Ethan admits, “I can’t find anything; looks like you’re stuck with sulphur.”

“That’s okay. Hey, do you mind helping me make them? I just want to make sure I’m getting it right.”

“Not a problem.” Ethan starts up the stairs. “How many do you need?”

“Nine”

He glances back at her. “Nine? Are you all bringing dates or something?”

“Well Oz is coming and Xander’s bringing Cordelia.” Willow suddenly looks uneasy. “And Miss Calendar and Dr Gregory are coming along because I guess they’d kind of like their classrooms back.”

“And there’s Rupert” Ethan tallies them up in his head. “Who’s number nine?” At Willow’s wavering expression his own face darkens. “Oh I see.”

Willow twists her fingers together. “It’s just…Angel’s seen a lot. He knows a bit about ghosts.”

“I’ll bet. Probably made few.”

“I don’t think he’ll exactly hang out. He just wants to be around to help.”

“In case you decide to come at the ghost with a chainsaw?”

Willow flinches. Softening his tone with some effort, Ethan says, “Fine. Nine plus one for me – if he’s going, I’m going.”

“Right” Willow steps over to the till. “Hey, you know, I was thinking.”

Noting her tone, Ethan pauses in spreading the ingredients out across the counter and waits. Willow continues, “Should we do something about Angel? Something magic, I mean.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Something to separate the demon and the person. I was reading about this spell to split a person into separate parts of their personalities. It’s not designed for vampires but I just thought…”

Ethan sighs heavily. “Sweet child. Angel is an animated corpse. It’s the demon animating it. Split the two and there’s every chance we’ll get to keep the demon but the man will crumble to the dusty bones he’d be by now if he’d stayed human. Which, frankly, wouldn’t trouble me in the least so long as we had a stake ready for the demon, but it would upset Buffy. And, again, I could live with that but I also need to live with Rupert, who’s likely to take issue with us breaking his slayer’s heart.”

Willow frowns. “It doesn’t have to be that way. If we practise –”

“On what? We’d be casting it for the first time when we cast it on him.” _So don’t tempt me_ his inner voice adds.

Willow shakes her head sadly. “There’s got to be a way.”

“Bless you for trying, Willow, but – horrendous as it is for me to admit – this might be one area where magic is best left well alone.” He returns to the ingredients for the scapulars, sorting the items into ten piles. “Magic is about exploring, provoking and growing, not control. Give a situation a prod and see what happens. But try to control it – give in to order, in other words – and things tend to go badly.”

Willow frowns. “It could work” she argues. “Somehow” But the fight has gone from her voice, leaving her sounding like what she is – a gifted but uncertain teenage girl.

They make the scapulars in silence.

*****

“We get into threes around the perimeter of the tripod” Giles tells the assembled company outside the school. “With Buffy alone at the centre.” He looks at his slayer. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Sure” Buffy nods. “Better than someone coming with me to get possessed and homicidal.”

“Quite” Giles glances around at them all. If he focuses on the whole group, he almost doesn’t notice Angel, who stands characteristically a little apart from the rest, an arm’s span away from the next furthest person. “Any questions?”

Shaking their heads, they sort themselves into groups with minimal fuss. To Giles’ relief, Jenny takes charge of Angel, leading him away before Giles has to address him or go near him. Stephen follows them after telling the others, “We’ll go to the cafeteria. I don’t mind the snakes; my old college room mate specialised in sidewinders – we were never without a terrarium.”

“What a cute story” Cordelia mutters, before turning to Giles. “What about us?”

The other corners of the tripod are the girls’ toilets or the top of the staircase near the library. In the circumstances, stepping foot into the ladies’ room would hardly matter, but propriety still has Giles assign that to the children. Cordelia rolls her eyes. “Great. Time was I’d be hanging out at the Bronze right about now but thanks to you people I’m lighting candles in the school toilets.” She pauses. “What if Xander gets possessed and shoots me?”

“You’ll have Oz with you to stop him” Giles reassures her.

“What if he’s possessed?”

“There are only two people involved in the fatal scenario. We should be fine in groups of three.”

Picking up on the wording, Cordelia repeats, “ _Should be_?”

Xander takes her arm. “We’ll be alright, Cordy. Let’s just get this done, okay?” He leads her away, followed by Oz once he’s bestowed a little kiss on Willow’s cheek. Left alone, Giles, Ethan and Willow make their way into the building.

Things deteriorate from there.

*****

“First a snake bite and now this” Cordelia moans. “I swear there’s nothing more this town can do to me.”

“Try being chewed on by a staircase” Ethan mutters beside her.

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“I vote we don’t go back tonight” Jenny accepts a coffee from Buffy. Joyce – thankfully, because Giles isn’t sure how he’d explain all this even now she is in the know – is out visiting a friend, so Buffy was left to play hostess upon their arrival. Responding with a simple nod, she leans in the doorway once the drinks are all dispensed, taking no part in the conversation around her. Giles hopes she is simply upset that Angel elected to stand outside the school and keep an eye on things – the wasps pose no risk to him as it turns out – because the alternative is that she is letting the spirit’s apparent fixation on her shake her. Not that her willingness to re-embrace Angel is a pleasant thought, of course, but better that than a scared slayer, or, worse, supernatural phenomenon.

It’s a shame really: until it led to the death of one colleague and the arrest of another (he really ought to get the Council to pull some strings), the ghost was actually rather interesting. Not to mention a welcome distraction.

Realising that the children have started to debate whether they can wheedle automatic graduation out of all this, Giles says, “Let’s refocus. Ethan, do you know any more potent exorcisms we could try?”

“None that don’t involve an actual priest” his partner replies. “And they tend not to like me.”

“Perhaps we could ask around? Some of the Sunnydale churches are bound to be aware that things aren’t, err, all they seem.”

Jenny shakes her head. “You’d be asking a lot of them. The more hardcore banishings have a tendency to go awry.”

Ethan nods in agreement. “Yes. We could be talking far worse than wasps.”

“I wonder if they’re different from regular vespula vulgaris” muses Stephen. Glancing up at Buffy he says, “I should have asked your friend to get hold of one for me.” Noting her expression, he adds, “Sorry. Perhaps if magic is too dangerous we could try…well, something else.”

“Ceding the school to it?” murmurs Oz. “I could live with that.”

“It’d be tough to let the old place go” Xander agrees, “but we just have to accept we can’t win ’em all.”

Willow scowls at them, though the expression isn’t without affection. She says, “Well we could go back to the touchy-feely stuff. Try to work out what James wants.”

“I suppose so” replies Giles. “After all, the situation hasn’t really changed –”

“It just has more wasps now” Xander interjects.

“– James is still trying to resolve whatever issues are tying him to this plane of existence. Though what those are –”

“He wants forgiveness” Buffy states.

Giles stares at her. Odd that the thought hadn’t occurred to him. But what else could the spirit want?

“Bit of a flaw in his plan” Ethan says.

Willow nods, frowning. “Yeah. All he’s doing is killing more people.”

“And reliving the pattern” Giles agrees, “So he’s experiencing a form of purgatory instead.”

“So he wants to break the pattern?” asks Ethan.

“Yeah” says Willow, “and not kill Miss Newman.”

“Well he hasn’t manged yet” muses Jenny.

“I don’t suppose we could talk to him?” Stephen asks. “With a…Ouija board or something. Do those work?”

“They tend to attract all sorts” Ethan tells him.

“What if we sort of, forgive him ourselves?” pipes up Cordelia. “Do something symbolic or something to say he’s forgiven.”

“It’s not up to us to do that” Jenny tells her. “Only the people he’s hurt can forgive him and they, um, she. She’s gone.”

“So no-one can forgive him then? Great. We work out what he wants and it’s impossible.”

“Good” Buffy speaks up at last. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

Giles thinks of his father and mother, of how readily they took him back after everything he’d done. “To forgive is an act of compassion, Buffy” he finds himself saying. “It’s not done because people deserve it. It’s done because they need it.”

Buffy stares back at him sadly. “But how can people do it? How can someone be the person who says it doesn’t matter when someone’s done something so awful –” She stops abruptly. “I’m sorry, Giles. I just…I need a moment.” Before Giles can say anything in response, she is retreating to the kitchen. Behind him, Cordelia puffs out a sigh. “Jeez, can we all at least try not to over identify?”

*****

It takes them far too long to realise Buffy has slipped out, and by the time they reach the school, she has entered and Angel is picking himself up off the pavement. “She knocked me out” he tells them as Jenny and Oz help him up. “She just punched me out on her way past…”

“She’s in the ghost’s thrall” Jenny informs him grimly.

Angel stares at her, then spins round to face the school. “Oh no.”

“Right there with you” mutters Xander.

“Should we go in?” asks Oz and Giles replies, “No: so long as Buffy is alone there, there’s no-one for James to possess.”

“So what’s he going to do instead?” asks Xander. Giles opens and shuts his mouth, wishing he had an answer.

“Should one of us go in there?” suggests Willow, indicating herself, Cordelia and Jenny.

Jenny shakes her head, “We can’t be sure he won’t possess a woman if he has no other choice.”

“So all we can do is wait?” Angel looks frantic.

“We could all go in” suggests Stephen. “If one of us is possessed, the others can stop him.”

“Possibly” Giles concurs. Turning to Angel, the only one present he imagines could quite comfortably overpower the other eight, he says, “You stay here.” That done, he leads the way to the school.

They don’t get far. However Buffy managed to bypass the wasps, they have no intention of letting anyone else in. At the reaction of the bristling, swarming mass of them reacts, they are forced to quickly retreat.

“She’ll probably be fine” Ethan says as they re-join Angel some feet away. “She’s the slayer, she’s not about to be stopped by some run of the mill ghost.” It’s a hollow comfort and Giles ignores it. Stares up at the school building, blackened and writhing with buzzing insects. Beside him, Jenny says, “I’ll get in touch with my online coven; they might know another spell.” She turns and hurries off, presumably in the direction of a pay phone or even home to use the internet. Grateful as Giles is that she’s trying, he can’t imagine it will help; this situation has gone beyond the point that any known magic could intervene.

They wait. They suggest increasingly futile-seeming solutions. Giles and Angel take it in turns pacing, each avoiding stepping too close to the other.

All is silent beyond the buzzing – until suddenly it’s not. Giles jumps as the shot rings out.

“Oh God” whispers Willow.

Unaware of how he got there, Giles finds himself on the steps to the building, but the bees still won’t let him in. Stepping away from their attack, he is overtaken by Angel, who darts in with no hesitation.

“Damn” mutters Giles. A part of him still equates Angel with danger and wants him nowhere near this. The rest of him can’t see how the vampire can help: the shot is already fired. Buffy is already…

No. He can’t think it.

“Love” Ethan is reaching for him, getting no closer to the wasps than he has to to grab Giles’ sleeve. “Come on”

Giles allows himself to be led back to the others. Grim-faced, they watch the building and wait.

“Who is it?” Willow asks. “Who’d be in there?”

No-one knows so no-one answers. He should, thinks Giles, have let Angel go in before this – whatever it is – could happen. What if James has somehow become fleetingly corporeal? Gods know how, but what if he has? What if he’s lured someone else in via a different entrance?

“There!” Willow gasps.

They all stare for a moment, before relief rushes in and has them moving forward (the building is suddenly free of insects) to greet Buffy.  

She is followed by Angel but walks alone. Dazed, possibly, distracted, but she offers them a smile.

“What happened in there?” asks Willow as she hugs her.

Buffy shrugs awkwardly. “Long story.”

“Who was in there?” is Oz’s question.

Buffy’s face twists in distaste. “Spike” She looks at Giles. “He’s healed. Probably came looking to kill me.”

Beside her, Angel mutters something about letting Jenny know she’s safe and stalks off.

Xander frowns. “So, you were possessed?”

“Yep” Suddenly Buffy won’t meet anyone’s eye.

“And Spike tried to kill you?” Cordelia asks.

“Nope”

Willow tries, “He got possessed too?”

“Yep”

“So he…wait, _you_ shot _him_?”

“Yep”

“And killed him?” asks Stephen.

“Nope”

“Because vampire” Willow nods. “So he got up again?”

“Yep”

“And you…he…”

“He forgave you” prompts Cordelia. “Miss Newman forgave James”

“Yeah”

“Oh” Willow flounders. “Oh, so he…he said ‘I forgive you James’?”

Buffy finally meets her eye, looking murderous. “No”

“Oh”

“More of a physical demonstration” guesses Ethan with his usual sensitivity.

Buffy turns her murderous glare to him, but replies, “Yeah”

In a horrified whisper, Willow asks, “He smooched you?”

Buffy scowls at her – and then walks away. “Home now.”

*****

“I take it you didn’t manage to stake him?” Giles asks when he and Buffy are finally alone back at her house. The other children finally stopped reacting to Buffy’s adventure and the mingled disappointment and excitement of school being back on, and left for home a short while ago, along with Stephen. Joyce has returned – she is currently chatting with Ethan in the kitchen – and Angel has not. And so Giles is left alone with a taciturn Buffy, who replies, “Kinda otherwise engaged.”

“I see”

“He ran off right after…”

“Right. Well, there’s always next time.”

“Assuming no more ghosts force us to make out.” Buffy shudders and scrapes at her lips with her fist.

“I’m sorry Buffy” Giles tells her. “I know it can be disconcerting when hosting a supernatural entity entails, err, that sort of thing.”

Buffy eyes him warily. “Speaking from experience?”

Images of Eyghon’s more appealing effects flashing through his mind, Giles replies, “Just what I’ve read” and prays Buffy doesn’t ever read enough to know otherwise.

“Right” Buffy relaxes a little. “Well I’m okay. And the silver lining is, Spike was at least as grossed out as me.” She pauses before adding, “I’m more grossed out about the twisted love story.”

“Oh?” Giles prompts.

Buffy stares sadly at him. “I just don’t get how Miss Newman could forgive James.”

“Perhaps that’s between the two of them.”

“Not really. Now she’s done it, we’ve all sort of got to accept it like what he did was okay.”

“That’s not what forgiveness is, Buffy. It’s not excusing an action. It’s finding a way to salvage something humane from an appalling situation.”

“Speaking from experience” murmurs Buffy, and it’s not a question this time. Letting the moment pass, Giles asks, “Will Spike be hindered for long by the gunshot wound?”

“I doubt it.” Buffy straightens up. “I guess Mission Kill Buffy is back on?”

“It would seem so”

“Darn. I thought dropping a church on him would work. I’ll just have to try something heavier next time.”


	35. Go Fish

Frowning in concentration, Willow stares at the spot of ink on the page in front of her, smiling in triumph when it finally spreads into a pattern. A symmetrical pattern, Ethan notes: The girl may be adept at magic but she isn’t a natural at chaos. When he first tried this spell, not much older than Willow, the ink had arched and contorted into elaborate illustrations and unidentifiable scribbles, not these neat geometric lines. Still, he offers her a grin. “Impressive. You did that very quickly.”

“I think it’s the energies in here” she replies modestly. “Working magic in an actual magic shop is bound to boost things.”

“Well, still. Would you like to practise transmutation?”

A twitching smile betrays how tempted she is, but she replies, “I can’t; I need to revise for the finals.” The magic books are packed away and the school books come out. Retreating behind the counter, Ethan says, “By the way, unless that will take up all your time, I thought I’d set you some homework.”

She looks up grinning. “Magic homework?”

“Unless you’ll be taken up with revision.”

“Oh – no, I can do both. I’m multitask-O-gal. What is it?”

Pulling a symbol-riddled map from under the counter, Ethan explains, “I still haven’t had any luck locating Spike, Drusilla and their gang. Apparently Drusilla’s picked up a little spell work over the years – from what Rupert’s read, it’s mostly trances and mind-control, but she certainly seems able to cloak their location as well.” Angelus must have set her to it, knowing Ethan could whip up a location spell otherwise, and it’s still a nuisance even now Angelus is safely pinned down by the soul again.

Wonderful if Willow could actually do something about that but she can’t and she seems to realise that immediately: Staring down at the symbols on the map, she asks, “But wait, I thought you said cloaking spells can’t be got around?”

“I did” Ethan attempts to look authoritative because this feels a little harsh. “But thinking about how it could theoretically be done will give you a chance to explore magic in an open-ended way that you might not otherwise.” Not to mention, at least fifty percent of magic-use is accepting what isn’t possible. The sooner the girl learns that, the better.

Willow looks crestfallen. “So…you’re giving me homework you know I can’t do?”

“So you can explore it” Ethan reiterates patiently. “And use skills that you’ll need when you go on to altering, blending and inventing spells.”

She brightens. “You think I could do that one day?”

Gods, the rate she’s going, she’ll be crashing into it before she’s even done the theory. Ethan wonders not for the first time if her ability is due to her being an already precocious child growing up on the hellmouth, or if witches of this calibre simply do happen every now and then and he was lucky to notice her. “Believe me, you’ll do it one day.”

Willow’s smile stretches. “And the impossible homework will help?”

“Yes”

“Alright then” Setting school work aside, she turns her attention to the map.

Ethan makes himself a cup of tea because all this teaching is hard work. Returning to find her still focused, he lets her puzzle it out for a little longer before asking, “So how was school this week? Are the swim team all sorted out?”

“I think so. Things seem to be going back to normal. Or as normal as things get in this town.” She glances up. “Did you hear about Angel’s visitor?”

“Visitor?” Ethan does his best impression of someone who cares that Angel’s had a visitor.

Willow tells him, “Buffy visited him a few nights ago and Drusilla was hanging around outside. She left before Buffy had a chance to start slaying.” Willow folds the map carefully and slips it into her school bag. “She was really upset.”

“Drusilla or Buffy?”

“Both I think. Buffy says she was crying.”

Two birds with one stone then; Angel and Angelus working as a heartbreaker tag-team. “Surprising Buffy didn’t stake him for not staking Drusilla.”  

Willow issues a reproachful look. “It’s not like he invited her. She just came to do the creepy-vampire-lurking-in-the-shadows thing that they all seem to like.”

“And he didn’t go out and stake her.”

“Buffy says that’s her job anyway. But he told her he will if he sees her again.”

“And just conveniently didn’t this time when he actually did see her.”

“I think it’s complicated between the two of them.”

“And again, I find myself wondering which of Angel’s two sweethearts you mean, and I suspect the answer is again both.”

Another reproachful look. “I just mean it would be hard for Angel to stake her.”

“Because he killed her family, tortured her into insanity and stole her mortality –”

“I shouldn’t have said anything”

“– and then got his soul back, went off after his own redemption and abandoned her. Twice.”

“Well he didn’t choose getting a soul. And the rest of it was Angelus.”

“The poor girl was going to be a _nun_. Imagine how desperate she must have been.”

“Ethan.” Willow stands up. “He said he’ll stake her if she comes back. He gave Buffy his word.”

Ethan frowns, a detail registering. “What was Buffy doing over there anyway?” Surely better if they, like all good little abstinence pledgers, avoid being alone together.

“I guess they just wanted to talk.” Willow packs her pencil case and books away and folds up the ink-patterned paper, not meeting his eye. “Do I have a deadline for the impossible homework?”

“Don’t change the subject”

“Away from how ooky Angel’s curse is and how I want my best friend to be happy but only so long as she doesn’t share it with her boyfriend who doesn’t deserve eternal misery but eternal misery is better than killing everyone? See I kind of want to.”

“Willow –”

“Or we could fix it.”

Switching from whatever empty platitude he would have settled on to a serious tone, Ethan tells her, “We’ve been through this. It wouldn’t work.”

For just a moment, Willow looks mutinous. Then she closes her school bag and slings it to her back, saying, “Right. Well I’ve got to go. Better get home before dark.”


	36. Becoming part 1

“Any word from the Council?” asks Ethan when Rupert returns from the library.

“Nothing so far.” Rupert slips his coat off and heads for the kitchen until Ethan stalls him with, “I’ve already made tea.”

“Ah. Thank you.” Rupert sits down and adds, “Apparently the Antiquities Department are looking into its possible origins and the Record Keepers are checking it against known prophesies. And the Office of Seers and Soothsayers are working on it, of course.” He sighs. “If only they hadn’t dug the blasted thing up. Gods know who signed off on more housing in this town given the rate people disappear at.”

“It could turn out to be harmless” Ethan reminds him, pouring tea.

“A harmless casket uncovered near an active hellmouth? I shan’t hold my breath.”

The door behind them opens, so it must be one of the children. Ethan rolls his eyes and looks to Rupert to enforce some curtesy. One of these days, he’s going to seduce Rupert right here on the sofa just as the scoobies are on their way over, with a view to teaching them the value of knocking. Rupert may or may not be about to say something along the lines of introducing basic etiquette, but whatever he was going to say turns into, “Kendra! This is a lovely surprise”

“It is?” asks Ethan, who could have quite happily spent his evening not being invaded by teenagers. Then Kendra offers him a shy, “Hello, sir” and his inhospitality melts away: He is, after all, well placed to understand what this girl goes through compared to Buffy, who is lucky enough to not know what being raised by the council is like, and Rupert who is paid not to question it. “Hello, Kendra.”

Buffy slings an arm over Kendra’s shoulder. “I caught her tailing me on my way home from…well, on my way home.”

Everyone pretends to not know where she was. Kendra says, “Mr Zabuto sent me to offer my insistence in eliminating Acathla.” She produces a letter and hands it to Rupert.

Buffy frowns. “Agatha? Isn’t that Mrs Price’s first name?”

“Acathla” Kendra repeats.

“Haven’t heard of him.”

“You haven’t read Peterson’s Discourse on North American Demonology Volume four?”

“Any reason I’d need to with you two here to give me the highlights?” Buffy turns to Rupert. “What gives?”

Still scanning the letter, Rupert remarks, “I think this rather proves that unearthed tombs never bode well in Sunnydale, Ethan.”

“Well it was a tenuous hope” Ethan comes over to read the letter over Rupert’s shoulder. It all seems rather dire: dormant demons waking up hungry for… “Oh bollocks.”

Buffy raises her eyebrows pointedly. “That bad?” Her eyes dart to Rupert. “And he’s not telling you off for swearing…so, that bad.”

“The demon Acathla is destined to swallow the world” Kendra tells her. “Unless we can stop it.”

Buffy’s eyebrows continue their assent. “Swallow the world? How big is this demon?”

“Metaphorically swallow” Rupert clarifies. “As I understand it, a portal would be created.”

“Dare I ask a portal to where?”

“To, um, hell.”

“Oh.” Buffy sits down heavily. “It’s never a portal to somewhere fun is it?”

Rupert sets the letter aside. “Ethan, perhaps you could see if we have a copy of Peterson’s Discourse? Kendra, make yourself at home. I need to phone the museum.”

*****

Naturally Acathla’s tomb has been stolen and the curator killed by vampires, because anything else would be too simple for this town. What the vampires are thinking, Ethan doesn’t pretend to understand. Even vampires are usually against the destruction of the entire human dimension, as evidenced by the reaction of the crew at the bite-house when he went there for information today. Had they known where Drusilla et al are living (well, unliving), he’s sure they would have told him, given their lack of enthusiasm at the prospect of being hoovered up by Acathla.

But they didn’t, so all he has to show for his efforts are a slight pallor and a bite mark that he makes sure is hidden before he enters the library. Jenny and Rupert look up from the pile of books at the central table. “Are you alright?” asks Rupert.

“Yes. I didn’t find out anything though.” Ethan sits down and helps himself to a platelet-replenishing donut.

Jenny nods. “I guess nothing would want to betray Spike and Drusilla.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. Where is everyone?”

“Last lesson” she checks her watch, “which is about to finish.” Looking at Rupert she says, “I’ve got to go. I’ll start computer club off and see if I can find Stephen.”

“Thank you” As she leaves, Rupert asks, “Did you speak to all your err, less than human customers?”

“The ones I could find” Ethan confirms. “And a few regulars at Willy’s. And, um, the suck-house.” At Rupert’s sharp double take he studiously feigns innocence and powers on with, “And tried a few location spells just in case she’s dropped the veil, but of course she hasn’t.”

“Well I’ve got Buffy and Kendra out looking as well” Rupert stands up and returns with a first aid kit. “With any luck they’ll turn up something before long. Where is it?”

Grudgingly, Ethan uncovers the bite on his arm. “It’s nothing serious.”

“So long as it’s cleaned” Rupert opens a pack of anti-septic wipes and dabs at it. “Did you have them disinfect their mouths first?”

“Of course I did; I’m not a novice.” Ethan withdraws his arm as soon as he can. “I needed to pay them somehow, you know.”

“I know. Though I do wish you’d stick to cash.”

“They weren’t in a cash mood: I woke them up.” Before Rupert can fuss over him anymore, Willow and Xander enter with their respective paramours. Grateful at the interruption – the fussing is touching but is also a reminder that he’s just worried Rupert even further – Ethan turns to them. “Hello all”

“Hi Ethan” Willow smiles briefly before turning to Giles. “Any luck?”

“Nothing so far.”

“Great” Cordelia sits down. “So on top of revision we’ve got to go through all these books looking for world-eating demons?”

“Look on the bright side, Cordy” Xander sits down beside her. “If we fail, we won’t take the finals anyway.”

“Don’t say that” says Willow. She picks up a book she apparently marked earlier with a colour-coded copy of her timetable. “So we’re still looking for ways to kill him?”

“Yes” Rupert confirms. “And any indication of where he’s prophesised to be.”

“We still don’t know where he is?” Cordelia sighs.

“No, but Buffy and Kendra are out looking.”

“Actually” Willow hands her book to Oz. “I was going to ask about that. Do you mind if I do my homework?”

Ethan realises she’s asking him. “The impossible homework?”

“A lift the veil type spell” Willow explains to the others. “To overturn the magic Drusilla’s done to hide where they’re hiding.”

Rupert blinks. “Willow, that can’t be done. Cloaking spells are some of the oldest – and by extension strongest – spells known.” He looks at Ethan. “You set her this as homework?”

“As a thought experiment” Ethan clarifies. “Willow, I thought I was clear; the clue is in the word impossible.”

“Well yeah” Willow twists her fingers nervously against the wood of the table. “But I think I’m actually getting somewhere.”

“Somewhere with what?” Buffy has entered without them noticing, followed by Kendra. Both slayers look a little unsettled.

“A counter-cloak type spell” Willow tells her. “So we can do a location spell.”

Buffy nods. “Do it”

Perhaps sensing that some troubling development has occurred, Willow nods and hastily gathers her belongings. Meanwhile Buffy tells the others: “Angel’s missing.”

Willow stills, and stares at her, as does everyone else. “What?” Rupert manages. Ethan wishes he could go over and hug him, but knows he wouldn’t be thanked for doing it in front of the children.

Stupid, stupid vampire. Of all the times to get snatched or go off in a strop. It would be entertaining any other day.

“We went over to his place after we searched the caves” Buffy explains. “I wanted to fill him in.” She folds her arms defensively, looks down at the table to add, “There’d obviously been a struggle.”

“I’m sure he can look after himself” says Kendra, in the tone of one repeating something for the umpteenth time. “Acathla is our priority.”

Buffy scowls at her, but her expression shifts to – deserved – guilt when she addresses Rupert. “I’m sorry, Giles. I know you’re not going to want to help him –”

“Gee, I wonder why” Xander mutters and Ethan makes a mental note to buy the boy a drink if the world doesn’t end. Champagne perhaps, if Angel does.

“But I’m worried Drusilla’s got him” Buffy finishes. “You said there was a ritual to wake Acathla up, what if that includes a sacrifice? What if she’s going to feed Angel to him?”

“Well” says Rupert, “The, err, the books have made reference to, um, to blood.”

“I could do a scrying” Willow suggests. “To see if he’s being cloaked by the same spell that’s hiding Drusilla and the others. Or, you know, to see where he is if he’s not.”

“He will be” Buffy tells her grimly. “What else could have taken him?”

“Maybe he just kicked his stuff around and went off in a huff” Ethan suggests carelessly. “Frustrated, perhaps.”

Buffy glares at him but says nothing.

“Perhaps he escaped?” Oz tries. “Got attacked but fought them off and now he’s laying low somewhere.”

Willow nods. “Then the location spell would find him.”

“You want to use my van for it?” asks Oz and at her nod, leads her away. At least he’s providing an alternative location to Rupert’s office to cast a spell to find the vampire who tortured Rupert, but Ethan is only passingly grateful. Doesn’t actually care where Angel is, so when Kendra says, “Angel is just one vampire. Unless he’s being used for the ritual, we can’t concern ourselves with him now”, Ethan adds, “Exactly. We do have the little matter of an apocalypse to deal with.” And, well, that is a good point in and of itself, bitterness aside.

Rupert moves closer to him and puts a steadying hand on his shoulder, though whether the intention is to comfort Rupert or himself, Ethan isn’t sure. “Ethan’s right, Buffy. We need to focus on stopping Acathla.”

“Oh we will” returns Buffy, “because wherever Acathla is, Drusilla’s probably using Angel to wake him up right now.”

*****

Willow and Oz return some time later to confirm that Angel’s location is indeed being cloaked by the same magic that is hiding Drusilla, Spike, Ford and their cronies. “So she does have him” murmurs Buffy and Giles notes the _she_ in place of a _they_ : this is personal.

Well of course it is. For Giles it is personal on several levels and the level that has him thinking snide thoughts about it being Angel’s turn to be tied up is the least helpful so he shuts it down, focuses on the level that urgently doesn’t want all those he loves to be sucked into hell. “Well” he manages, “Assuming she isn’t waiting for a specific time – and there’s no indication that the ritual requires that – Drusilla’s attempt to awaken Acathla has failed.”

“I’m guessing no chance she’ll just call it quits and let him go” says Cordelia.

“I doubt that.” With any luck she’ll simply experiment. Well, not with any luck: it wouldn’t be lucky for Angel. But it would stall Drusilla long enough that they have a chance of finding her.

Right on cue, Willow insists. “I really do think I’m getting somewhere with this counter spell. I could –”

“It isn’t possible” says Giles flatly. “I’m sorry, Willow, but I need you to focus on finding ways to kill Acathla.” They already have Kendra’s sword, of course, and numerous accounts that make clear that the best course of action is to prevent him being woken in the first place. But the more they know about possible courses of action the better and at least that way the girl’s not inconsiderable mental prowess is being directed at something practical.

Willow deflates a little but doesn’t argue. She, along with the other children and eventually Jenny and Stephen, spend the final hour before sunset researching in relative silence. At one point, Willow and Oz pop out to his van and, though Giles suspects she attempted a spell (she returns unkempt and flushed) she resumes reading without commenting on what must have been a futile attempt.

“We’re not getting anything new” Buffy declares at last, closing her book. “I can’t just sit here. Can I go and check the docks? Or the caves again? They’ve got to be somewhere.”

“Yes” Giles stands. “Kendra, perhaps if you –” Before he can send the slayers off in different directions, a noise from the stacks has everyone turning. A vampire springs from the balcony and lands on the table, scattering books and sending everyone scrambling to their feet. Suddenly they are surrounded – vampires crash through the window and pour in through the door. Giles reaches for the first thing to hand – the blessed sword – and decapitates one before it can reach Ethan. Shoving his partner into the office he commands, “Barrier. Now!”

“Yes good thinking!” Ethan attempts to pull him in and shut the door, “Lets trap them in here with us.”

“They’ll be after books” Giles spins at the heart wrenching sound of one of the children screaming but turns back to Ethan when the next sound is a vampire dusting. “They’ll be after information on how to complete the ritual; we can’t let them leave with it.”

From the main library, there is a crash and someone shouts, “Giles!”

Trusting that Ethan will do what he’s told, Giles returns to the fray, calling out, “Buffy!”

She catches the sword he tosses her way, leaving him to fight with his fists. Around him, the others do the best they can: Jenny is throwing holy water and Stephen has hold of a large cross and is using it to drive one of them away from Oz as he loads a crossbow. Grabbing Cordelia’s hand, Xander makes a break for the stacks but a vampire leaps into their path and grabs his arm, twists it. Disposing of the vampire with a pencil snatched from the table, Giles pushes the pair of them under the table. “You too stay here and –” And a vampire has him round the neck. “Buffy!” Giles manages to gasp and there is a breeze as the sword swings, and suddenly Giles is free albeit dusty. An arrow from the crossbow shoots past him, followed by a vampire thrown by Kendra, who Buffy dispatches with the sword before leaping over the table to help the others. As she jumps, Giles sees Ethan emerge from the office, holy water in hand. He throws it and ducks behind the counter as a cursing vampire staggers towards him. Giles steps over and stakes it from behind. From somewhere in the stacks there is a scream and a crash, and Giles turns to the sound, only to be knocked aside by a fleeing vampire. Apparently a few of them have now realised they are up against two slayers and have decided to cut their losses. One grabs him as it passes and it occurs to him with sadly-familiar shiver of dread that maybe they are not after the books at all.  Fortunately, the barrier spell is active and they are trapped just short of the door, their surprise giving him a chance to struggle free. Leaving Buffy and Kendra to finish them off, Giles runs up to the stacks to find –

“Willow!”

She is under a bookcase, unmoving. Lifting it off her, Giles kneels to search for her pulse. She has one, but she doesn’t appear to have any other signs of life. “Good Lord. Willow?” He squeezes her shoulder but doesn’t dare shake her: That rising bruise on her head…

Below, in the library, the last few vampires are staked against their noisy protests and there is a shifting in the air as the barrier spell, no longer needed, fades. Giles calls out, “Up here!” but before anyone can respond, there is a new voice commanding, “Nobody move!”

Then Sunnydale’s finest have them at gunpoint.


	37. Becoming part 2

“I said no-one move!”

Emerging from behind the counter, Ethan freezes with his hands in the air. Bloody American cops. His eyes dart to Rupert, who is crouched over…no. “Willow?” Ethan calls, and Xander turns towards his friend, prompting a barrage of commands from the officers. Meanwhile one of them is telling Buffy, “Drop it!” and cuffing her and another is heading straight for Kendra, pinning her to the ground. So easy for the girl to fling him aside but she doesn’t, though she does take a moment to uncurl her fingers from the blade in her grip, to the outrage of the uniforms around her.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Ethan clicks his fingers: “Somnum”. In a fan shape around them, the police and the principal fall, all in a deep REM sleep. Buffy, half in cuffs, blinks at him, then struggles out the manacles and races to the stacks, followed by Oz. “Willow? Oh God.”

Xander brushes past Ethan and into the office. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

*****

Putting their unconsciousness down to a gas leak, the police assume the commotion in the library was due to the effects of the same and no charges are made. Giles can tell the Principal is unhappy about this but with everyone else convinced the school should be closed until the gas mains are inspected, there’s not much he can do but make the appropriate arrangements.

Finally free to join the others, Giles enters Willow’s hospital room to find a small army already gathered there: Jenny and Stephen, bruised but standing, Joyce, just arrived and confused, but doing all she can to comfort the children. The children, all in various stages of shock. Xander’s arm is in a sling. Ethan is staring at Willow with an almost fatherly concern that Giles wouldn’t have thought possible before they arrived in this town.

None of them should be involved in this, Giles decides, except for Buffy and Kendra. This is why the slayer line exists, after all: to keep all other innocents from going through this. Caching Buffy’s eye and inclining his head towards the door, Giles steps outside again. Once Buffy and Kendra follow he tells them, “We still have Acathla to deal with. I imagine we were attacked in an effort to gain information about the ritual.”

Buffy nods. “They kept grabbing you. Maybe they thought they could get you to tell them.”

Supressing a shudder, Giles replies, “Which means they still don’t know how to awaken Acathla and we still have a chance to stop them. We just need to find them.”

“So let’s go find them.”

*****

With no other leads, they find themselves walking through the night-time town after stopping by the school for weapons. Mercifully, the police left those when reassured they belonged to the historical re-enactment society. A ridiculous lie, but Giles isn’t complaining.

Kendra has the blessed sword and what she has admitted is her favourite stake. She keeps glancing at Giles in concern and no wonder: Mr Zabuto is seventy-eight. Remarkable that he’s managed to train the girl, let alone patrol with her. Clearly she’s used to watchers staying behind to await reports and feels an extra burden of responsibility with him present.

Buffy is also burdened and Giles isn’t sure if this is due to her anxiety over Willow, over Angel, over the fate of the world or all of the above. He is just trying to think of something comforting to say when Buffy stops short and says, “Creepy mansion.”

Giles appraises the building. “Yes, I suppose it is.” There is a general air of neglect at least. That and…magic. Magic tingling around the place, covering – _cloaking_ it. “I don’t suppose…”

“I suppose.” Buffy nods to Kendra and they advance together, splitting up as they enter the grounds to seal the exits. Noticing a side door, Giles whispers to Buffy, “I’ll get Angel out that way; the two of you concentrate on stopping Acathla.”

She glances at him and for just a moment she looks torn, before replying, “Sure. Giles, be safe, okay? If you can’t get to him…” and she trails off, unable to finish the instruction. Giles nods all the same. “I’ll be fine” he tells her, and she nods in turn and leaves before he can wish her luck, slipping into the building via a pair of French windows that she opens and closes softly, apparently unnoticed. Kendra, meanwhile is already inside. Giles waits until the sounds of a battle are underway before entering unseen.

Inside, the air is dusty, and shouts echo up and down the halls, vampires calling for back up. The place has the same smell, somehow, as where he was held, and for just a moment Giles finds himself unable to proceed. Old blood, he recognises, it smells of old blood and cold flesh and…perfume. Drusilla. Forcing unpleasant associations from his mind, he heads down a corridor, following the scent. He’s here to free Angel, after all, and chances are he is wherever Drusilla is. Gripping his weapon, he ducks into a dark room to avoid two vampires as they rush past, then heads up a staircase on the off chance they thought to keep their prisoner upstairs to make escape just a little harder. The scent of perfume is still potent. From downstairs, a voice calls, “Okay, Summers, you’ve made your point, but now –” and the rest of Ford’s spiel is lost in growling coming from nearer by. Giles raises his stake and proceeds cautiously, peering ahead though the boarded-up windows on this level don’t allow for much light.

Downstairs, Buffy screams. Spinning round, Giles starts back the way he came and is grabbed from behind, pulled backwards. He’s still clutching his stake, but he’s at the wrong angle to get it in the heart…but not in the eye. As the vampire screeches and staggers back, Giles twists round and disposes of it. The dust settling, he pauses and listens. Downstairs the fight is still going on in earnest and no-one is screaming – or at least, no-one human. But Buffy’s scream had been a sound of real distress – either she is hurt or Kendra is. Or worse. For a moment, Giles is on the point of running down there but he reminds himself that Buffy is counting on him to free Angel. And even injured, Angel is likely to be more useful against a foe like Spike than Giles is. Better to find him quickly and go to the slayers’ aid together.

Fortunately, Angel is tied up in the next room Giles comes to. He is unconscious and rumpled but not visibly hurt. Perhaps – just perhaps – in different circumstances, Giles would at least note that he has a stake in his hand, Angel bound before him and no witnesses. But as it is, his only concern is Buffy so he crouches to deal with the ropes, and then Angel wakes and stares at him with eyes so human that Giles feels guilty just from knowing what would cross his mind in a different situation. “Giles?”

“I’m getting you out of here” Giles tells him unnecessarily.

Angel closes his eyes and states, “I know you’re not here.”

“I am here, you prat.” Giles tugs at the ropes. They are thick and tightly wound, and he wishes he had a knife.

“You’re not. It’s a trick. A dream.”

“Do pull yourself together.”

“She’s making me see you.”

“Look” Giles snaps, “Buffy needs our help, so stop going on and get ready to fight.” As soon as he can get the ropes off, that is. Finally breaking through the first knot, Giles unwinds it in a coil from Angel’s waist, leaving a snaking pattern of blood. The vampire’s wrists and feet are still bound. Angel murmurs, “The real Giles would stake me. I deserve it. I’m ready.”

“The real Giles” Giles corrects him, “wants you to keep an eye out while I work on these knots.” He digs his nails into the bonds at Angel’s feet. Has one foot free before a new, feminine voice fills the room: “Oh no you don’t!”

Hastening to his feet, Giles raises his stake, but Drusilla darts from his first attempt at landing it. Blocking the door, she shakes a finger at him. It is dripping with blood. “My Angel’s to stay here and help me wake up the beasties below. I'll have him scream so hard they can't sleep through it.”

“Drusilla” Angel twists against the ropes but they don’t give. “Leave him.”

“Shh!” Drusilla scolds him. “Don’t want to hear all the soul-stained lies pinning daddy down. When Acathla awakes, you’ll all melt away and we’ll see Angelus again.”

“If Acathla wakes” Giles tells her, “You won’t see anything except demons far worse than you.” But even if reasoning with a vampire were possible, reasoning with this one is not. He raises the stake again. Drusilla tilts her head, a smile on her lips. “Drop it.”

Giles drops the stake. Doesn’t mean to, but he does. Suddenly he is pinned by something in her gaze. Drusilla nods encouragingly while Angel, suddenly frantic, tells him, “Giles – Giles, don’t look in her eyes!” but his voice is very far away.

“That’s better” murmurs Drusilla, stepping closer. “Now” She hooks her bloodstained hands around his wrists. “I’m going to give you a present” She leans closer as a loud voice sounds behind her: “Drusilla? Pet, we need to g – oh, for Gods’ sake!” Spike pulls Drusilla away and pins her to his side, folding an arm around her neck. Their eye contact broken, Giles leaps back, fumbles for his stake –

And is handed a knife. He stares at the leather-clad vampire offering it, but Spike isn’t looking at him. Fixing Angel with a glare, he tells his sire, “For old time’s sake: I’ll get Dru out of town and you won’t bloody follow.”

“No arguments here” murmurs Angel, and Drusilla, wriggling against Spike’s grip, whimpers at the dismissal. Before Giles can say or do anything, they are gone, leaving him cut Angel free.

*****

By the time they get downstairs, it is over and the floor is dusty. Dusty to the point of grittiness, in fact, and some of the grit is floating in the blood, grey on red.

Buffy sits beside Kendra, holding her hand. Behind her looms Acathla, but the sword still protrudes from his stone chest and he is motionless. Unthreatening.

Seeing them, Buffy stands up and rushes over. “Angel!” They share a fierce hug. Walking past them, Giles kneels beside Kendra. Aside from the blood she looks peaceful. And so desperately young. He will, he decides, break the news to Mr Zabuto himself.

*****

“So Ford’s staked?” Xander asks the next day.

“Good and staked” Buffy’s light tone is fragile, forced. “Just before he could try and pull out the sword. Not sure if it would have worked though, with his own blood.”

Giles glances up at that but says nothing. Overnight, a Special Ops team have airlifted Acathla out of Sunnydale and back to London, where, Giles is assured, he will be properly disposed of. The children need not know how close they came.

Except perhaps Buffy, perhaps when she is older. She ought to know how narrow the margin for error can be. She ought to know what the world owes her too, but it can wait. She is still here, still able to grow older, still surrounded by friends who need not know how close the darkness can come to winning. He will talk to her about it one day. Unlike Kendra she still has theoretical _one-days_ in a comfortably blurred future.

Giles keeps thinking about Mr Zabuto, of how calm he had been on the phone; the sort of calm that only having nothing left to care about can bring. He has been told, of course, just how close they came to apocalypse. It might bring some comfort. Kendra died not patrolling or jumped by some monster or even putting a stop to some lesser malice, but averting the end times: Even among slayers, she is royalty, and her name will be carved onto the Plaque of Commendation in the Council Headquarters and she will not be there to read it.

Beside Giles, Buffy puts her feet up on Willow’s bed, the slatternly posture a welcome distraction, a pose a living child would strike. The children are all here in the hospital, though Oz and Cordelia have gone off in search of refreshments, leaving him with Buffy and her two best friends. Willow had, apparently, been planning on returning to school today against all medical advice, but the school is closed to allow for the unwarranted gas inspection.

“You know” murmurs Buffy, “I never had Ford pegged as someone who’d want to end the world.”

“Well of course not, Buff” Willow tells her gently. “I mean, no-one looks at someone they go to school with and think _oh, just give that guy a reason_. He was just another kid back then.”

“And it wasn’t him anyway” Xander adds. “The vampire, I mean. It was just a demon who took him over, right Giles?”

“Yes” Giles reassures them. “That’s correct.”

Buffy frowns. “Well I still think it was mostly Drusilla anyway. She put him up to it.” She turns to Giles. “But you saw her and Spike leaving, yes?”

“Yes” Giles nods. “They were driving off just as Angel and I got downstairs; I saw them from the window.”

“And you’re certain it was Spike with her? ’Cause I didn’t even see him when we were fighting.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to end the world” suggests Willow. “Ethan told me once not all vampires do.”

Buffy shrugs, looking doubtful. “And he said they were leaving town? Angel said he said that, but Angel’s kinda bashed up, I wondered if it was the painkillers talking.”

“No” Giles tells her, “He did say that. I got the impression he was a little peeved at competing with Angel for Drusilla’s affection.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “Well I was getting peeved about Drusilla trying to steal Angel’s affection, so I guess that makes two of us – Urgh, and I did not just say _that makes two of us_ about me and Spike.”

“It’s okay, Buffy” Willow reassures her. “He’s gone, they both are. And Ford’s dust and Angel’s all soulful again. We made it.”

“Most of us did” murmurs Giles, thinking again of Kendra. But the thought is fleeting this time, his attention quickly taken up with the children again as their talk turns to more light-hearted topics. Buffy is safe, he reminds himself, and Willow, Xander, Cordelia and Oz are all safe right here.

And Ethan is safe at home, so Giles smiles at him when he returns, because safety still feels novel after last night. Ethan returns the smile and it takes on a taunting edge as he sees Giles notice the bags at his feet.

“Are you going somewhere?” Giles asks.

“ _We_ are, in fact. Here” Ethan produces two airline tickets from his pocket. Giles inspects them and looks up sharply. “Havana?”

“Yes” Ethan’s smile stretches further still and he lets his jacket fall open to reveal a particularly garish shirt. “We’ve earnt a holiday so I got us some last-minute tickets. Come on, we’ve only got a few hours to make our flight.” He takes the tickets in one hand and Giles’ hand in the other, and attempts to pull him out the door. Giles resists with, “Ethan, I know the danger has lessened, but –”

“But nothing.” Ethan forces Giles out the flat. “I’m officially sweeping you off your feet, Rupert. So stop arguing and enjoy it.”

Giles follows him grudgingly to the car. “But I haven’t packed.”

“I packed for you.”

“Then Gods help me.” Giles watches him set their bags on the back seats and tries to step around Ethan when his partner attempts to herd him into the passenger seat. “But what if something happens while we’re gone?”

“We can come back. And Buffy can manage a week without a watcher. Or two.”

“Wha – two weeks?!” Shocked, Giles overbalances and Ethan tips him into the car and straps him in. As Ethan heads round to the driver’s side, Giles unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door handle, only to have Ethan lean over him and lock it as he climbs into the car. “Come on, Rupert. You’ll co-operate and we’ll go and actually have some fun for once.”

“I have a slayer to watch, Eth.”

“She can phone you at the hotel.” Ethan starts the engine and drives off just fast enough that Giles has no choice but to strap himself in again. He tries, “But she doesn’t even know I’m going.”

“She does: I paged her this morning. She says have fun.”

Insufferable, conniving child. “What about the school?”

“So far as Principal Snyder is concerned, you have a family emergency. Which is true, actually: we are in urgent need of some time away.”

“What about the shop?”

“Willow’s going to keep an eye on it.”

“Willow’s injured. And she has school.”

“Xander and Cordelia are going to help her.” Ethan laughs and asks, “So what could go wrong?” in the tone of one relishing all the things that could go wrong.

“You utter berk. You know I like to plan these things well in advance.”

“This is a hellmouth town, Rupert. There is no well in advance. Now, sit back and: _Relax_.”

Seeing no other option, Giles surrenders. “Ethan?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will now be an interval while I work out what on earth season 3 is going to look like in this AU...


	38. Summer 1998

All in all, leaving the children in charge of the shop was not the disaster it could have been, which is rather disappointing. Checking through the stock, Ethan notes that it’s actually neat and – he shudders – organised. Willow even tidied up around the shrine, naïve, well meaning child that she is. A conciliatory adulation will be required.

Willow sits at the table behind him, looking through the holiday photos he’s just collected with an enthusiasm he hopes he doesn’t have to return if she ever goes anywhere herself. “So here you guys are on the Malecon…Oh, and is this one the Castillo de la Real Fuerza?...Oh, and here’s Giles with no clothes on…”

“Ah” Ethan hastily extracts that particular photo from the set. “Part of a private collection, that.” He folds it and slips it into his wallet.

Willow smiles up at him. “It looks really cool, Ethan. Havana I mean, not naked Giles” and then she blushes and adds, “Um, not that naked Giles is repulsive, or anything, actually he’s quite nic-er-attra-er-you can feel to interrupt, you know.”

“I know” replies Ethan cheerfully. He sits down across from her and slides two items across the table: an empty vial and half an onion. Willow, already flustered, doesn’t embrace the change of topic. Actually, she looks more flustered. “Oh” she manages, “Oh, I, I can’t…I…”

Ethan pushes his chair out. “I could put some sad music on if you don’t want onion on your face.”

“It’s not that” Willow blushes. “It’s just…it wouldn’t be…um...” She takes a deep breath and lets it out with: “Ozandmedidit”

“What?”

Another deep breath. “Oz and me did it. Um, _it_. So it wouldn’t be virgin tears.”

Ethan stares at her. “Willow”

“I know”

Ethan smiles. “Congratulations! When?”

“You know when we were all researching Acathla? There was this end-of-the-worldy vibe and we both went off to his van.”

Ethan wants to either high five or hug her but senses she’d be overwhelmed by the latter and put off by the former. “Well, it’s about time! The two of you have been dating for what – two years now?”

“Nearly.”

“Was it…” Again, Ethan reins himself in, limits his question to, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Willow’s blush deepens and she nods. A more serious point presents itself to Ethan and he adds, “Please tell me you used protection.”

“We did.” Willow nods hastily. “Devon has an emergency supply of…well, you know.”

“Good. Sensible lad in his way.” Ethan gets up and puts away the vial, chucks the onion in the bin. “Because adorable as little ginger cubs would be, you’ve got better things to think about.”

Willow asks, “You won’t tell my parents, will you?”

“I don’t know your parents” Ethan reminds her. “And if I ever meet them, I won’t open with _I know where your daughter lost her virginity_.”

“Good. And, um, you won’t tell Giles? In case he tells my parents. Or the police. I mean, if anyone turns us in, Oz is guilty of a misdemeanour crime because I’m underage and that’s punishable by up to a year’s jail time and –”

“Willow. Breathe.”

“Okay.”

“You’ve helped stop apocalypses, love. I think you’re just a little more capable of making your own choices than the average teen.”

“Right.”

“And I lost my virginity on a park bench aged sixteen, so I can hardly judge.”

“A park bench?”

“It was dark.”

“Oh, but, sixteen in the age of consent in England, isn’t it? So you weren’t breaking any laws. You’re not an outlaw like Oz.”

“Actually, for two blokes, it was twenty-one and we had to be behind a locked door. And trust me, Oz is no outlaw.”

“Really – twenty-one?”

“Eighteen now, so we’re inching closer.”

“Oh” She still looks uneasy. Ethan asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. But also – I’m sorry about the tears, by the way.”

“That’s alright. I do have other sources, you know.” Unfortunately, Stephen has a job and is harder to pin down. Punned intended, if best not said out loud.

“But also, you won’t tell Buffy, will you?”

Ethan frowns. “You haven’t told her already?” Usually the two of them each know what the other had for breakfast.

“Well she’s still in LA with her dad.”

“And he doesn’t have a phone? I forgot Buffy’s father is a cave-dweller.”

“We have talked, but it’s mainly been about her stuff. Like, the other week she stopped these demons from stealing people into their dimension and spitting them out when they’re old. It took lots of detectiving that I helped with, so really, a lot of our conversations have just been about that.”

“Which is all in a days’ work for her. Whereas your news, she’d be really excited about.”

“I don’t think so” Willow looks down at the table and takes a long moment before glancing up again. Finding Ethan still waiting for her to go on, she is obliged to add, “It’s just…things are tough on her and Angel. They can’t…you know.”

“Actually they can.” Ethan sits back down, the jubilation slipping a little. “And we all live in fear of the day they do.”

“They won’t. Not until it’s safe.”

“Until?” Gods, not this again.

“Well there might be some way to quirk the curse. If we researched it properly.”

“Of course, which book shall we try first: How to Risk Everyone’s Lives Needlessly for Dummies?”

Willow frowns. “Well it’s that or split him into separate entities and you said that wouldn’t work.”

“Changing the curse comes with the same problem: it hasn’t been done before so you’d be doing for the first time on him, with no way to predict the results.”

“But –”

“But nothing. The curse is designed to make him suffer. It wouldn’t be a curse if you changed the perfect happiness detail and then the whole basis for the spell falls apart.”

“But it’s not fair! Angel – the soul-having Angel, I mean – doesn’t deserve this.”

Ethan shakes his head. “You’re talking to the wrong bloke who woke up three separate nights in Havana because his partner was screaming the place down.” Not a detail Rupert would want him to share but sod it – maybe it will get through to the girl.

She certainly looks upset. But she asks, “Then what about Buffy? She loves him and –”

“And if she really loves him, it won’t matter that they can’t fuck.”

Willow flinches at the word. Ethan goes on, “Buffy can look after herself. And if she can’t, she can find someone else. Sucks to be Angel in that scenario but I won’t lose any sleep over that.”

“I know Buffy can take care of herself, that’s not why she nee…oh. Oh, you mean, um…”

“Masturbation”

“R-right.” Willow goes beetroot but powers on with, “But if we can help…”

“We can’t.” Judging it best to change the subject, Ethan adds, “Now. Did you work on that water-to-wine charm?”

Willow smiles grudgingly. “Yes. I think I’ve got the hang of it now” and they proceed to have a pleasant afternoon in which certain tragic lovers are not mentioned.


	39. Anne

“And the portal closed behind us and that was it.” Buffy finishes. “Well, and I did a lot of shopping. But not in hell.”

“I’d have thought hell would be full of the sort of shops you frequent.” Giles replies dryly as he scribbles a few notes of her account.

“What, and all the tweed and tea stores are in heaven?” Buffy rolls her eyes and studies her new timetable, breaking into a scandalised expression. “Double math? I should have stayed in hell.”

“Buffy.”

“Sorry but come on! Double math first thing on a Monday has to be a cruel and unusual punishment or something. Can I just hide out here?”

“No, you cannot. You can, however, tell me if you encountered anything else of importance during your trip.”

“Well I ran into Lily. That’s Chanterelle to you. You know, like the mushroom.”

“Who?”

“You remember the girl I pulled out of the Sunset Club? I saw her while we were out shopping. Well, I kinda think shop-lifting in her case, but she seems happy. New boyfriend and all. Oh, and I slayed a few vampires. You’d think it would be quieter in LA.”

“It’s still rather close to the hellmouth” Giles reminds her.

“Not that close.”

“Hellmouths are surrounded by concentric circles of demon species” he informs her. “Some like to be as close as possible to the infernal energies they emit and others do better at varying distances further out, while some can be found all over the world.”

“Well you’d think they could at least give me summer off.”

“What you did was truly remarkable” Giles tells her, “Returning alive from a hell dimension is virtually unheard of.”

“Not this one” Buffy shrugs. “Will it stay closed?”

“I imagine so” replies Giles, who imagines it will simply reopen in a different city, away from interference. “I’ll report it to the Council and they can send a team.”

“Good” says Buffy, apparently under the impression the Council will do so out of compassion for the homeless and not because of the research opportunities, an attitude he himself is too jaded to entertain.

“So what about you?” Buffy asks. “How was Havan – ah –” She flinches as the school bell heralds the first lesson. “Hold that thought” Hopping off the desk, she mutters, “If only this dimension went fast on school days” as she trudges out the door.

Giles smiles after her and gets started on dealing with the returns. Few students made the pre-holiday deadline but with his partner whisking him off to Cuba before term ended, he hadn’t been able to attend to even those few. 

“Hello”

Giles turns. Joyce, incongruously, is standing in the library. She smiles and offers him what appears to be an overly foamy coffee from the Espresso Pump. “I’m on my way to the gallery and thought I’d call in.”

“Oh” Giles takes the cup. “Thank you. Is everything alright?”

“Yes” she replies with an expression that says, _no_. Sitting down, she admits, “I am a little worried about Buffy. As soon as she got home she was off to see Angel.”

“Ah” Giles sits down too.

“I have met him properly now” Joyce adds. “And he seems very nice, for a…”

For a cursed vampire doomed to an eternity of discontent. Giles nods.

Joyce tells him, “A part of me thinks she’ll grow out of it in her own time anyway. But she is in love with him, and she’s nothing if not tenacious.”

“I agree” says Giles, a little uneasy at both discussing Buffy’s love life and at discussing Buffy’s love life without her present. “I doubt she’ll give him up without, err, some effort to make it work.”

“But it can’t work can it?” 

“Has Buffy told you about his curse?”

“Yes” Joyce’s expression becomes unhappier still. “We had some long chats before she left for LA.”

“So you know about his…particular circumstances.”

“I do. _Their_ circumstances really, now they’re together.” She sighs. “At least I don’t need to worry about her getting pregnant.” She fixes Giles with a look. “I don’t, do I?”

“No, no.” Gods, but he doesn’t want to think about that. “That, at least, isn’t a risk in this instance.”

“Well that’s something. And I do believe Angel cares about her. If it wasn’t for this curse, I’d be happy for her to have a boyfriend who can fight, now I know that monsters are real.” She shakes her head. “But not this. If he can’t be perfectly happy, she can’t be either, can she? I know Buffy; she feels for the people around her. She can’t be happy unless the people she loves are.”

“She is a dear girl.” Giles considers reminding Joyce that there are times when Buffy isn’t with Angel, when she is here at school with her friends, laughing along with them. But what comfort is that when a part of her, even then, must be looking ahead to when she next sees Angel? Slaying will always be her duty, but if it weren’t for Angel she could have a normal life – or as normal a life as possible – the rest of the time. As it is, a part of her mind is always with the dead.

“Do you think we should say something?” asks Joyce “Or do something? My friend Pam has a nephew who –”

“No” Giles wants to be clear on this. “No, I think intervention of that sort will only drive her closer to him.” If his own teenage years are anything to go by, trying to prevent troublesome behaviour with parental interference would be like attempting to put out a spark with a fire imp.

“You’re probably right” Joyce seems, if anything, relieved, as though she was already inclined to that view but wanted it reinforced by someone external. Her next question is, “Can I see her schedule? She told me there’s a training schedule.”

“Yes” Giles replies cautiously, getting up to fetch it. “I’ve just finished this year’s plan.” He slides it towards her and she scans it before deciding, “I’d like a copy.”

The request is against protocol but the Council are all the way in London, and not dealing with the extraordinary reality on the ground: the mother of a slayer who knows about slayers. Giles nods and says, “I’ll drop one round tonight.”

“Thank you. And are there any books you can spare about all this? Some of what Buffy’s told me, it’s just so…And if this is her life, I’d like to learn more about it. About what’s expected of her.”

What is expected of her is sacrifice upon sacrifice, but how can Giles tell her that? Carefully, he tries, “Some of the, err, accounts are a little unnerving and –”

“And my daughter has to deal with it. So I want to know.”

Reluctantly, Giles nods. “I’ll get them to you with the copy of Buffy’s training schedule.” That at least gives him a day to find suitable texts, ones that focus on the victories and importance of the slayer line, rather than the deaths. “And I take it the schedule is so you know where she is? I can understand you wanting to see more of her but it really is vital that Buffy trains regularly. It’s the surest way to keep her safe.”

“I just want to know where she is when she’s out.” Joyce stands and adds, “Thank you. Bad as it sounds, I’m glad someone else is as worried as I am.”

“Oh, you can always count on me to worry about Buffy. She would say too much.”

Joyce smiles. “She’d say that about me as well. But how can I not, with what she has to face?”

“She doesn’t have to face it alone.”

Joyce nods. “I’ll hold you to that.”

*****

“Wow” Willow murmurs in reverence, turning a page in the book Ethan laid out ready for her after-school magic lesson.

On the other side of the room, Ethan is busy with a display, letting her drift through the text until her attention snags on one spell or another. Letting her read this book was a strategic move on his part: it introduces a range of mostly harmless but suitably challenging spells, all things she hasn’t seen before. Just the thing to distract her from tinkering with Romani curses.

“Look at this one” Willow exclaims. “It turns music into colours.”

“A bit upstaged by strobe lighting these days” Ethan muses, coming over.

“Oh, but the colours change depending on the music and it makes all these patterns and things.” She reads on a little before concluding, “I’d love to cast it at Dingos show. Oh, and look at this one – it makes emotions contagious! Imagine, if you could get one person in a good mood and cast it…”

“Better than drugs.”

“I’d go with way better. And it this one makes people speak in rhyme…” she turns a page. “And this one makes people sprout wings! Actual wings!” She beams up at Ethan. “I want to try all of these! All at once! It’s a shame you’ve only got me as a student. A lot of them would be better in a group.”

“You could invite your friends along some time.”

“You wouldn’t mind? I mean, you have the shop to run and I’m good at being quiet. Xander and Buffy? Not so much.”

“I could close up early one day. And I was thinking more people than just Buffy and Xander.”

“Well, and Oz, but he’s good at being quiet.” She wrinkles her nose. “And I guess if they all came I’d need to invite Cordelia as well.”

“More than that: if you want to try the Hearing Colours Hex, you’ll need a band. It’s always better with live music.”

“Well” Willow frowns. “I guess Oz could invite Dingos. But that’s starting to sound like a party. I don’t know enough people to have a party and a party would really invade your shop.”

“We could make it a marketing party” Ethan decides. “People come and make merry, and I draw their attention to one or two products. If Ann Summers does it, I don’t see why I can’t.”

Willow looks doubtful. “But then, wouldn’t they need to be people who want to do magic? ’Cause I don’t think me and Amy make a party.”

“If they’re not interested in magic, we’ll just have to convince them, won’t we? I’m starting to like this idea.”

“Well, a marketing party sure, but a party with my friends? I don’t know enough people to invite.”

“Bless you, child, you don’t need to know people to invite them to a party.”

“I don’t?”

“Just ask people to ask people. And offer free booze. I’ll put up posters.”

“I…I guess I could send a few emails. I bet UC Sunnydale’s admissions department has a list of students’ email addresses. If anyone were to hack them. Oh, and Dingos have a website now.”

“There you go then.”

Willow bites her lip. “But. Me doing magic in front of all those people? What if I screw it up?”

“You won’t” Ethan taps the book. “You’re more than capable of everything in here. And it doesn’t have to be in front of people; it could just be around them. Cast the spells in the crowd and see what takes.”

“No drumroll?”

“No drumroll. Promise.”

“Okay then.”


	40. Dead Man's Party

The hard part is convincing Rupert not to intervene for the sake of the great uninitiated and clueless. Apparently, just letting people know that magic exists is irresponsible now, and only a promise of giving a free protective charm to everyone who attends the party convinces his partner not to somehow prevent the whole thing from going ahead. How he’d do that, Ethan isn’t sure, but reporting them for violating some sort of maximum occupancy code is not a low he thinks Rupert wouldn’t stoop to.

Not that maximum occupancy doesn’t become an issue in any case. The Magic Box is small, even with the back room, to accommodate everyone who could potentially show up once customers, college students, high-schoolers and Devon’s not-inconsiderable army of groupies have been invited.

Once Ethan concedes that an alternative venue is required, the challenge is convincing Joyce to give her large-enough home over to the event.  Only making the occasion a (very) early 18th for Willow sways her, and even then she insists on attending herself, which wouldn’t be a problem except Ethan isn’t sure how she feels about underage drinking.

“Well you can’t expect her to leave her own home so you can transfigure the furniture or whatever it is you’re planning to do” Rupert points out as he watches Ethan pack his bag of tricks.

“Well you could invite her over here” Ethan replies, pouring a good measure of goat’s blood into a bottle, corking it and putting it into a side pocket. “Show her your new pet.”

“It is not my pet.”

Ethan shoots a scowl at the mangled, growling cat in a cage in the corner. “All I’m saying is, since you’re standing me up for a zombie cat, the least you could do is offer Joyce an alternative place to spend the evening.”

“But you like Joyce. I like Joyce. I’m not colluding with you to force her out her home just so you can intoxicate a load of teenagers.”

“Oh, like you never got drunk as a teen.” Ethan zips his bag up. “Besides it’s not too much; just enough that they can do shots and feel all grown up.”

Rupert turns back to his research but replies, “Don’t let Buffy drink to much, will you? With this cat rising, she should be on her guard until we know what’s happening.”

“Fair enough. She strikes me as the type to make a lairy drunk anyway.”

*****

Joyce, as it turns out, is more forward-thinking in regard to alcohol than Ethan had feared. “I just think they’ll do it either way” she tells him, sipping from her own glass in the kitchen, “or at least they will if they’re anything like I was. So they might as well do it under the safety of adult supervision.”

“Absolutely” Ethan nods, prompting his hair to change from sparkly blue to metallic pink. “The amount of times I used to sneak off to get bladdered on cheap cider near the river, it’s amazing I didn’t fall in. Or get eaten.”

“Kahlua was my poison” Joyce gestures to Ethan’s hair. “How long will that last?”

“Until sunrise, but I’m expecting the wings to dissipate in the next few hours.” He frowns, “Or at least I hope they will – I do plan to go to bed eventually.”

“It was quite a show.”

“Thank you. And I am sorry about the coffee table, by the way. I should have realised the armchair would eat it.”

Joyce nods. “Well, so long as it’s replaced.”

“Oh, it will be.” Compensation money really won’t be an issue with the sales Ethan has made tonight. Just the orders for powdered Janliku horn for the Medusa hex ensure he breaks even on the protective talismans everyone received at the end of the demonstration.

A noise from the living room – loud enough to compete with the band, who are playing a loud, mauve track – has Joyce setting her drink aside. “I’m not sure how I feel about them flying indoors…” she hurries off. Before Ethan can follow, Willow enters, trailed by a rather furry wine glass. “I couldn’t pull off bunnies” she tells him, gesturing to it. “But the curtains turned into pythons for like five whole minutes. These guys didn’t like them.” She indicates the placid, silvery snakes writhing over her head in place of her hair. “Oh, and I cast the contagious dancing charm. Everyone’s boogying away and I didn’t even infect myself this time, not like – well.”

“That wasn’t your fault. I turned myself turquoise the first time I tried that hex too.”

“At least it went with my outfit. Oh, hey and –” And at that moment, a horde of zombies burst through the door. Ethan yells and leaps away from them, tugging Willow in front of him.

“Ethan!” She protests.

“You’ve got a talisman” he points out, as around them the zombies groan and fall back at the sight of it, a few crouching and shielding themselves. Crawling away, one helps itself to the furry wineglass and swallows it in a few crunchy mouthfuls.

“Where did they come from?” Willow gasps as a zombie passes her and lunges for a group of party-goers who scream and take (literal) flight up the stairs. “Is this because of the dance charm?”

“I doubt it” Ethan pulls his chalk out his pocket. “You keep them away from me and I’ll set up a barrier.”

Buffy runs in from the living room, dragging a zombie with her and throwing it at the ones still coming in. “Willow, what is this?”

“It wasn’t me, I swear!”

Leaving Buffy to fight the invading dead, Ethan kneels and focuses on creating a barrier. Soon, the magic is pulsing through the room, sealing the doorways and windows. “There” He stands up, and then yelps and scrambles on to the kitchen counter as a particularly repulsive zombie snaps at him. Buffy grabs it round the waist. “Yeah, you know that saying about shutting the barn door after the zombies are already inside?” She throws the zombie down and hits it with a chair. “And you realise you can fly, right?”

“Oh yes” Ethan flaps his wings experimentally, knocking a few plates off a shelf behind him and sending them smashing to the floor. Buffy, still exchanging blows with the zombie, plucks up a shard and plunges it into the corpse’s chest. It looks unimpressed.

“How do I kill these guys?”

“Buffy!” Xander runs in, clutching a broken wing. “They’re upstairs!” Behind him, Cordelia glares, her fur turning red. “Willow, was this you?”

“Um. The zombies or the fur?”

“Fur?!” Cordelia clutches her new pelt in horror, before brandishing her talisman at a passing zombie. “Get lost Elvis, I’ve got bigger problems right now!”

Buffy grabs the zombie and snaps its neck, which seems to annoy it. “Elvis?”

“Well, he’s dead.”

“Right. You guys get the people down here into the basement. I’ll deal with the crashers.”

*****

“And how much do we owe Joyce?” Giles asks later, handing Ethan a mug of cocoa.

“It was the zombies that did the damage” Ethan bristles. Folding his (admittedly adorable) wings, he sits down with his drink and adds, “Well, the armchair did take a bite out the toilet. But apart from that it was the zombies.”

“She said someone was sick on the ceiling.”

“To be fair, she was okay about the drinking.”

“Well I don’t think she was expecting them to have wings.” Giles sits down. “At least you’re all alright. I should have realised it was the mask.”

“We were fine. Buffy got rid of them all in one blow once one of them got the mask on.”

Giles nods because, really, an army of zombies isn’t overly challenging for Buffy these days. Remarkable girl.

No, it isn’t Buffy he needs to worry about. “How was Willow?”

“Very successful.” Ethan smiles, but seems to recognise the lines along which Giles is thinking because he elaborates, “It was all transient magic. All superficial. Clever visual tricks that will fade by morning.”

“Good.” And how long will that hold her attention? The girl is fast becoming one of the most prolific witches Giles has known. With her skill increasing faster than her caution, there is a lot to be said for keeping her studies purely theoretical for a while.

Except that then she’d be bound to practise in secret, with no experienced adult around to supervise.

Easy to wish Ethan had just not introduced her to magic in the first place but it would be futile wish. And besides, used properly, magic could keep Willow safe, the talisman she was wearing tonight being a case in point. “You’ll keep an eye on her, won’t you?”

Ethan nods, his expression unusually serious though somewhat undermined by his luminous hair. “Obviously I will.”

“Good. Now drink up and we can get to bed.”

Ethan shakes his head. “I won’t be able to sleep until the wings wear off.”

“I didn’t mean to sleep” Giles strokes one of the feathery appendages. “You’re looking rather like a fallen seraph and I’m not about to waste it.”


	41. Faith, Hope and Trick

“Anything?” Giles tries to sound casual when he comes downstairs to find Ethan sorting through their post.

Ethan glances up, and the sympathy on his face answers the question before he does: “I’m afraid not.”

Of course not. Giles heads into the kitchen, ostensibly to prepare breakfast, but really because Ethan can’t see his disappointment if he hides in here.

Natural that the Council should have kept him at arm’s length when he first returned, but hasn’t he proved himself by now? He’s the first watcher of an active slayer not to be invited for seventy years and seventy years ago the Grackzithlin wars were still raging so the in-field watchers were rather taken up with that.

Stepping into the kitchen, Ethan hugs him from behind. “Oh, Rupert. We could go by ourselves, you know. Bound to be some decent outdoor retreats in California.”

“You’re allergic to the outdoors” Giles points out.

“Not to beaches” counters Ethan. “If we found a costal place, I could relax with a book and the ocean like a civilised human being while you ride horses and kayak and do all those other preposterous things you inexplicably like to do.”

“Somehow, Ethan, you’re not painting a picture of communal fun.” Giles sighs, “Besides, it’s more the principal of the matter.” Not that vigorous exercise with others who actually want to participate isn’t very appealing. As is a trip home. But mainly, there’s the respect conveyed by the invitation alone. 

Ethan makes a sound not unlike a purr into his shoulder and pulls him closer. “You could just join me on the beach, you know.”

“Ethan, we’ve just had a holiday. That’s not why I want this invite. It’s just the…the recognition.”

“Well, screw them. Not literally, of course.” Ethan’s hand strokes Giles’ chest. “If those pathetic tweed suits don’t recognise how impressive you are, plenty of people around here have already cottoned on.”

*****

Buffy bursts into the library just as Giles is entering his account of Kakistos’ demise – pieced together from Buffy and Faith’s reports – into the watcher diary. “Giles, you have to help me!”

“Buffy. Has something happened?”

“It’s my mom!”

Oh good Lord, it’s finally happened: some appalling hell beast has targeted the slayer’s mother. “Tell me what you know”

“She said we should invite Faith to come live with us. Faith!”

Ah. Giles relaxes. “So you, err, you’re…”

“Freaking is what I am! I can’t live with Faith! She’s already muscling in on my friends and my watcher; she can’t muscle in on my mom too!”

“She’s, err – on your watcher?”

“She said you were young and cute.”

“Oh yes” Giles blushes, before returning to the matter in hand. “Buffy, Faith is a stranger in Sunnydale. A stranger who’s been through quite an ordeal, I might add.”

“I know that.” Buffy pouts. “And look, Giles, I get that Faith’s kinda young to be living on her own. I mean, hell, I couldn’t do it. But she was managing. She had a motel room and everything.”

“Had?”

Buffy folds her arms. “Now she’s got our spare bedroom.”

Something like relief unfurls in Giles’ mind. The Council had been very clear that Faith was to arrange her own accommodation, an instruction Giles suspects is so they can see how she fares in comparison with Buffy, the more coddled slayer. Or, possibly, they just wanted to limit his influence while not risking a more favoured son by actually sending the girl a separate watcher. It’s not as though they tell him these things. But it’s not as though they have authority over Joyce Summers, either: Given Buffy’s late identification, they have been unsure as to how to proceed with her. “It could be a lifeline for Faith” he tells Buffy, who scowls and replies, “You’re just saying that because it means she doesn’t have to have come live with you. That could happen, right?”

“We don’t have a spare room” Giles points out.

“She could…” Buffy waves a hand “sleep on your couch or something”

“Buffy”

“I know, I know. I’m being bratty. But Faith’s just…a lot, you know?” Buffy wilts under Giles’ gaze and adds in a muttered undertone, “You’re just relived you don’t have to live with her.”

Well yes, a little. But Giles replies, “I have to live with Ethan, which is more than enough mayhem for one person to be dealing with.”

“You don’t have to, you just like him. And I don’t like Faith; not in that way or any other.”

“That’s not true.”

“I know” She slumps in a chair. “She’s not too bad I guess. But she’s not come-live-with-me-and-share-my-mom material.”

“Perhaps you should simply be welcoming and see how it goes. Faith may become a little less, um, full-on once she realises she doesn’t need to prove herself.”

“Of course she doesn’t need to prove herself: she’s made it all across the country on her own. Outside of slaying the most adventurous I’ve been is summer at my dad’s.”

Giles sets his journal aside and joins her at the table. “But you have been the slayer longer than she has” he reminds her.

“And she’s been in training longer than me.”

“But you were chosen first. She’s probably just as in awe of you as you are of her.”

“Awe’s putting it strongly” Buffy grumbles. She adds, “This is your fault, you know; you lent my mom those books and now she’s all relieved I won’t have to do all those scary things the past slayers did because she thinks Faith’s going do it instead. She wouldn’t know about the scary without those books.”

“I rather suspect she would.”

“Not in detail.” Buffy sighs. “I’ve just gotten on board with being the slayer, Giles; I don’t want someone else taking over now.”

“Faith won’t take over” Giles tells her gently. “There are more than enough demons to go round after all.”

“I guess” Buffy concedes. Seeing that Giles still watching her, she adds, “Fine. I’ll give hospitality a go. But she’d better stop playing with my weapons.”

Giles nods encouragingly and wonders what on earth Joyce has let herself in for.


	42. Beauty and the Beasts

“Look” Willow entwines her fingers with Oz’s, “We know it’s not you. There’s no way you could get through the barrier in wolf-mode. Right Ethan?”

“That’s right” replies Ethan and he’s almost certain he’s being honest. The barrier spell on the library cage is complex, allowing a werewolf in but not out, and human Oz both in and out, but it’s strong. Unless someone has tampered with it…

The first test he does – a simple sprinkling of mulberry seeds and powdered rat skulls to reveal the perimeters of the spell – proves that the barrier is at least still active, though how it is acting is yet to be determined. Said determination has to be done with the blinds down and a second barrier at the door, because much as the general student population rarely enter the library, they can’t take the risk of someone entering to buck the trend, and leaving with knowledge that werewolves exist. “And the three of you should go too” Rupert tells Willow, Xander and Cordelia, “in case the barrier fails and the wolf attacks us” Behind him, Oz looks down at his shoes.

“I’m staying” Willow replies.

“I’m not” Cordelia heads for the door. “I’m happy to just hear second hand if Oz ate Jeff or not.”

“Cordelia” Willow’s tone conveys both disapproval and a lack of surprise.

“What? I’m just saying I don’t want to see the practical demonstration!”

Oz steps into the cage. “Can we just do this?”

“Sure” Buffy nods and turns to Rupert. “Willow should stay. But the rest of you guys should get out of here.”

Once Rupert and Willow are stationed in the office and peering out, Buffy steps closer to the cage, tranquilliser gun at the ready. “Open the door Oz” she tells the boy in the cage. Oz raises an eyebrow. “No way. Not with Willow here.”

“We’re testing the protection spell” Ethan reminds him, “not the cage door.”

“I’ve got this” Buffy holds up the gun. “And Ethan: If the barrier fails you can break the spell fast, right?”

Ethan nods and indicates glass canine in the centre of the pentagram. “I just need to break this.”

“Let’s do this then”

“Wait” Willow interjects. “Oz – your clothes”

“Oh” Oz unbuttons his shirt and ties it loosely around his waist before slipping out his trousers.

“Okay” says Buffy. “Now let’s start.”

The chant isn’t long, but it involves intervals of silence that stretch it. The magic gathers slowly until it pulses beneath Ethan’s skin. When he lets it out all at once, the cold rushes in, making him shiver.

At the blast of magic, Oz succumbs to the wolf before their eyes. It tilts its head back and howls. Then, as Ethan hastily scrambles back, it leaps as if to launch itself through the doorway – and hits the barrier. Falls back with a whimper.

“Yes!” Willow squeaks from the doorway. “That means he didn’t do it right?”

“Hold on” Rupert cautions. “I’d still like to see him try to get out the window.”

Buffy gestures to the high window. “Up there wolfy. Good wolfy” The werewolf stares blankly at her. “Willow, do you know how we could get him to move?”

“I’m not sure…oh! Hey, Oz: Rabbits!”

The wolf’s growls rise to a crescendo and it thrashes against the wall, rattles the gridded sides of the cage, bounces off the barrier in the doorway again.

“Rabbits!” Willow yells again, and the wolf jumps, scrambles on to a shelf and, finally, tries to wriggle out the window. Buffy raises the gun, but the barrier holds, and the wolf hits the floor with a soft thwack.

“Poor Oz” murmurs Willow.

“Lucky Oz more like: it wasn’t him.” Buffy takes the glass dog from the pentagram and, at Ethan’s nod, smashes it across the floor. With a shimmering in the air around it, the wolf gives way to Oz, who stands and hastily reaches for his clothes. “Well?”

“You’re in the clear” Willow tells him.

“Oh” his relief betrays the concern he’d hidden rather well. “The barrier worked?”

“It’s sound. You didn’t kill Jeff.” “Yeah” Buffy agrees. “Which means we’ve got to find out what did.”

*****

“I see” Cradling the phone with one hand, Giles sets his Jaffa cake aside as Willow describes her findings. Nothing quite like morgue talk to dampen the appetite.

“Yeah” she says, sounding remarkably calm. “So all we really know is it had claws, but we still need to test the hair Dr Gregory found on his clothing.”

“And what did Angel think about it?” In the periphery of his vision, Giles sees Ethan look up from his book.

“He couldn’t smell anything obviously demony” Willow replies. “He said the hair smelt almost human but kinda not but because it was just a few strands he couldn’t be sure.”

“I see. Well let me know if the hair turns up anything conclusive.”

“Will do. ’Night Giles”

“Goodnight” Putting the phone down, Giles comments, “She has a stronger stomach than you’d think. She’d make a brilliant watcher.”

“Over my dead body are the council getting her” Ethan replies. “How was their field trip to the morgue? Didn’t make Angel too peckish, did it?”

Choosing to ignore that, Giles says, “It seems whatever killed this poor chap was especially viscous. How are your friends at the pub?”

Ethan scowls. “None of Willy’s regulars are all that prone to tearing youths to shreds.” He frowns. “Well, maybe Harux but only in mating season, and that’s only if it snows. No chance of him going into heat in California.”

“Right. And no-one new has come to town?”

“No-one I know of.”

It’s possible that the killing is the work of a particularly nasty vampire, Giles supposes. There are outliers, even among vampires, when it comes to typical levels of violence: starving fledglings, “artists” of Angelus’ ilk, those who take over the bodies of murderers and psychopaths. If any of these monsters among monsters are unable or unwilling to control themselves enough to stay hidden, other vampires are known to keep them in check in order to protect the group. But, with Spike and Drusilla’s departure, the largest group of vampires in Sunnydale is recently fragmented. Could their absence have left some especially nasty minion to run riot?

Before Giles can share this unpleasant theory, there is a knock at the door. Answering, Giles finds, “Jenny! Hello” He stands aside to let her – and the older woman with her – in without issuing a verbal invitation.

“Hi” Jenny replies. Indicating the other woman she says, “This is my aunt, Steliana. Steliana, this is Rupert Giles, and Ethan.”

“Call me Stela” The woman smiles, shaking Giles’ hand. She is much like her niece, though her figure is fuller and her hair longer, wilder and streaked with grey.

“Stela’s here to keep an eye on Angel” Jenny informs them, her closed posture betraying her lack of enthusiasm for the idea.

“If you ever think he’d be easier to watch in cockroach form” Ethan tells the newcomer, “just let me know”

“Ethan” Giles tries to inject some warning into his tone but he just sounds tired. To the women he says, “Would you like to sit down?”

“Does this mean you’re out of a job?” asks Ethan as the pair sit.

“Possibly” Jenny grimaces. “But not a paid one: I can still teach computer science. And” she gives her aunt a meaningful look, “I intend to persuade Steliana that I don’t need anyone to take over in the Angel department either.”

Unsure how to take all this, Giles retreats to the kitchen to make tea. From there he can hear the aunt saying, “We are all impressed with your work on the restoration spell, Janna. But the fact remains you let him to find the happiness that made it necessary.”

“I didn’t exactly let –”

“It’s true; she did” interjects Ethan. “Personally I think he could stand to suffer a lot more.”

“If I’d been told the curse could lift” argues Jenny, “I’d have warned him. Angel would have avoided the happiness if he’d been aware.”

“Well, I wish the elders had warned you about the curse too” her aunt concedes. “But how exactly would Angel have avoided his moment’s happiness with the slayer? He hasn’t left town even now! Besides, we don’t collaborate with vampires.”

“Maybe we should”

Giles lets the bubbling of the kettle sooth over their voices. Really, Buffy should be here. Or at the very least Angel. It doesn’t feel right hosting these women who calmly discuss their future as though they can have no say in the matter. Granted the Council would do the same for Buffy but at least their aim is to save the world, not a personal vendetta. 

The kettle boils and Giles pours and heads back to the living room, just as Ethan, not to be outdone in the field of personal vendettas, is saying, “Just a little physical punishment would go a long way to unsettling him. Nothing too drastic, but between us I’m sure we could summon some invisible scarab beetles or rustle up some mystical leprosy.”

“It wouldn’t help” is Stela’s reply. “Love transcends such trifles.”

“That depends where the leprosy hits” Ethan replies, while Jenny says, “Stel, you just said it yourself; he loves her. He’s capable of unselfish emotion now.”

“So are all souled creatures” Stela dismisses. Accepting tea from Giles she adds, “All humans can love, and they kill each other all the time.”

“But with a soul, Angel hasn’t killed anyone.” Jenny nods to Ethan. “And he saved you when Eyghon took you over.”

“That was nothing personal; he just went where the scoobies pointed him.”

“Scoobies?” asks Stela, and Jenny explains: “Buffy and her friends.”

“Oh, so she already has the help of others? Then why would she need him?”

“That’s what I wonder” Ethan seems to be enjoying this. Sitting down with his own drink, Giles says, “A vampire is a very useful ally for Buffy. In addition to his strength he has an, err, insight none of us can claim.”

“I’m sure he does” Stela replies coolly. Studying him, she adds, “I would have thought you of all people would want to keep them apart.”

Suddenly chilled, Giles adjusts his glasses, giving himself time to ensure his voice remains steady. Once he’s under control he replies, “Then the fact I accept his help ought to demonstrate that he can be trusted so long as he keeps the soul.” Ethan, he notes, no longer seems to be having fun. He looks as serious as Giles feels.

“And how long will he do that?” Stela asks, “Keep the soul?”

Jenny shakes her head. “No. There’s no way he’ll lose it. He dreads losing it now; any happiness he feels is too tainted to be perfect.” To Giles she says, “I’ve persuaded Stela to shadow you for a while. If you’re okay with that? I can square it with the school.” “Shadow me?”

“Janna thinks that if I see the dangers this town faces I will be persuaded that our family needs to rethink our approach to Angelus with a view to the greater good. The big picture, as she put it.”

“Is that such a terrible idea?” Giles asks.

“The greater good I have no quarrel with” she replies. “It’s working with Angelus I take issue with. Even after today.”

“Today?”

“She took me to meet him at his mansion. We sat down to tea like this, only with a host who’s strangled babies.”

Jenny sighs heavily. “No-one’s asking you to like him, aunt. Or even to trust him. I’m just saying we can change our approach now he knows about the nature of the curse; work with him to keep it in place instead of watching in the shadows. Or at least, I could if I was left to get on with it.”

“You’re too close to the situation; Janna.”

“And you’re too distant!” Turning to Giles, Jenny asks, “So please can she shadow you? Just to get an idea of the reality of life on a hellmouth.”

Giles isn’t wholly comfortable with the idea, even before he wonders how to explain it to Buffy, but he asks Stela, “If it’s definitely something you want to do?”

She nods with a grudging glance at her niece. “I suppose a little perspective can’t hurt.”

*****

“We could just let them do their thing” Ethan murmurs into his ear that night as they lay in bed. “They’ve been gunning for Angel since before we were born.”

“And now that could change” replies Giles wearily. “I thought you liked change?”

“Change, not masochism.”

“I thought you liked masochism, actually.”

Ethan lets that go with a mere slap to the thigh. “You know what else would be a change? If he just left. Let your slayer find some nice, human boy.”

Honestly, a part of Giles would like that too. But, “If we try to drive them apart it will only push them closer together.”

“I suppose that’s true” Ethan wraps his arms around Giles’ torso, gathering him close. “I just don’t want you to have all these reminders.”

“I am alright, Ethan.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s almost always true.”

*****

“Giles, you’ve got to talk to Faith” Buffy storms into the library the next day. Coming to a halt in front of the counter she demands, “Do I smell?”

“Um. What?”

“Smell. Do I smell?”

“I, err” One does not, in polite society, sniff teenage girls. “Not from here?”

“Hi” says Buffy, noticing Stela seated at the table. “I don’t smell do I?”

“Why would you smell?” asks Giles.

“Because Faith had took the longest shower in the history of plumbing this morning and I didn’t get a look in! I just had to spray deodorant on over my sweat!”

“I’m sure you’ll manage for one day.”

“But you’ll talk to her? As our watch – err” Buffy turns to Stela again. “Have we met?”

“I’m Stela” Stela replies. “Trainee librarian. Just shadowing for a few days.”

“Right”

“Stela is Jenny’s aunt” Giles elaborates.

“Oh” Buffy reappraises Stela, who shoots Giles a displeased look. “So you’re here about Angel?”

“Actually I’m here in the school to get to know this town.”

“Because you’re going to stay here and keep an eye on Angel? Well he doesn’t need eyes on him.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

“And it is for you?”

“Buffy” Giles intercedes, “Stela is here to try to find a workable solution.”

“To the problem of my boyfriend?”

“To the risk of Angelus returning” Stela’s voice brooks no more argument than those of the stricter tutors at the academy, and Buffy scowls but doesn’t reply beyond, “Whatever. Giles, can you write me a note so I can go use the showers in the gym before lessons start? And if Faith stops by, tell her I slay at my best when I can share in the personal hygiene.” With a final glare at Stela, she sweeps out.

*****

“Where’s Faith?” Giles asks Buffy when he comes into the library after the first lesson to find Buffy and her friends in-situ. Stela is restocking the stacks but she emerges and stands at the mezzanine at the urgency of his tone.

“Probably still at mine” Buffy shrugs. “What’s up?”

“Still at…But the Council had her enrolled here!

“And did they pull strings to get her a personality transplant too?”

Ignoring that, Giles switches to the point he came in to convey: “The staff have just been informed that Mr, Platt, the student counsellor, is dead.” He looks meaningfully at Buffy. “Killed by wild animals.”

Looking a little unsettled, Xander asks, “More hyena people?”

“I’ve no reason to think that” Giles reassures him, though there are similarities: the school employee still in his chair, the broad daylight.

“Killed as in shredded?” Willow asks. “Because that sounds like Jeff.”

“Was it done last night?” asks Buffy, and Giles shakes his head: “No; he signed in this morning, and a few people saw arrive.”

“Huh. So Jeff’s killer is a broad daylight demon” murmurs Buffy. “If it is a demon?”

Willow pulls a face. “The representative from the morgue break-in votes demon.”

“Yes” Giles concurs. “Rumour has it the injuries were extensive. A human would struggle to do that, especially in a limited time span. And he was still in his chair, so it must have been instant.” He is aware of Stela watching and listening. It reminds him a little of the in-field training exercises at the academy.

“Okay” Buffy is frowning. “But this is still pretty specific, right? A random demon on campus would just kill the first people it finds.”

“And the counsellor’s office is kind of out of the way.” Willow adds.

Xander asks, “So someone targeted him deliberately?”

“It would seem so” Giles confirms.

Buffy is still frowning. “So if it’s the same demon, it must have targeted Jeff deliberately too? What did Jeff have in common with Mr Platt?”

“I think that’s what we need to find out” Giles replies.

*****

Having been absent for the entire morning, Faith strolls into the library after the bell rings for lunch. After a cursory glance at the others, she singles Buffy out from amid the huddle of teens in the room. “’Sup B?”

Buffy glares. “Where have you been all morning?”

Faith shrugs. “What’s it to you?”

“This is your other slayer?” asks Stela as the girls bicker. Giles nods wearily. Buffy is saying, “I had to shower at school! If you decided to skip all your morning classes, why’d you get up so early and hog the bathroom?”

Faith shrugs again and it occurs to Giles that perhaps she intended to come to school on time and lost her nerve. The girl is tough but it is a forced, artificial toughness he recognises from his early days in London. Disappointing that, having trained as a potential, she couldn’t simply be professional, but he supposes it isn’t all that surprising: Faith was identified in her early teens – relatively late for training purposes – and only extracted from an abusive family to live full time with her watcher a year later. Given that, an expectation of professionalism is perhaps a little unfair. An expectation of physical presence, though, is the bare minimum, so he tells her, “Faith, we could have used you earlier.”

“Is that so?”

The undeniable note of flirtation in her tone catches him off guard and he stutters a little before managing, “I mean to say, we’ve had a spate of deaths. A student and now the school counsellor.”

“We think they were targeted deliberately” Willow adds. “So we’re working through a list of people they have – um, had – in common.”

“It’s mostly weirdos” Cordelia says. “People in Jeff’s classes who need a professional.”

Faith’s confident demeanour slips just fractionally and – well aware that she was signed up to weekly sessions with Platt on admission – Giles moves the conversation along with, “So far, no-one seems especially, um…”

“Demonic?” supplies Buffy.

Giles nods. “Or affiliated with demons. So far no-one who knew both of them even seems aware of the demon world.”

“So it’s just some random demon after all?” Faith asks.

Xander shakes his head. “Not unless a random demon got onto the school campus in broad daylight and strolled around until it found the little window tucked into a corner that Mr Platt was smoking at.”

“Plus we’re still working through the list” Buffy tells her, adding, “My money’s on possession. Only someone who looked like a regular person could have got so far into the school without someone raising the alarm.”

“It’s possible a demon was summoned near the counsellor’s office.” Stela reminds them, earning herself a grudging nod from Buffy, whose eyes remain mistrustful.

“It could be a demon disguised as a human” Xander suggests. “Like Marc was” To Faith he adds, “Long story”

“Perhaps there’s a spell for it?” Willow asks. “To show if someone’s really a demon. We could ask Ethan.”

Giles nods. “Give how little we have to go on, that might be the best recourse. I’ll give him a ring.”

“A spell like what we did for Amy?” asks Buffy. “I’ll have to accidently spill something on all of them?” Glancing at Faith, she offers another, “Long story”

Faith raises an eyebrow. “Never boring here, huh?”

Xander gives a resigned nod. “Yeah, boredom’s something we can only dream of. Except when we’re in chem class. Oh, and math. And classes, really.”

Ignoring the interruption, Giles tells his slayers, “Until Ethan arrives we still have people on the list to talk to.”

“Right” Buffy agrees. “Faith you can use the whole new-girl thing and ask them directions, see if anything sets off the slayer senses.” She leads the other girl away, Faith following with all the reluctance of an ordinary problem student on an ordinary school day. Willow watches as they depart without a backwards glance and hastily stands up. “I should go too. See if Dr Gregory’s had time to look at the hair.” She scoops up her school bag and hugs it protectively as she hurries off.

*****

“Nothing?” Buffy stares at the map spread across the library table.

“Not even a basement lurker?” adds Faith. “Because I kind of want to pummel something.”

“Bad first day?” asks Stela.

"First afternoon" mutters Buffy.

Faith shrugs. “Schools and me don’t get along.”

Willow, studying the decidedly un-illuminated map, glances up but doesn’t offer comfort, instead asking, “Are you sure we did it right?”

“Yes; there’s no problem with the casting” Ethan confirms, “Just a lack of demons.”

Stela asks, “Would someone possessed show up on here?”

“As far as I know” Ethan stubs out a candle and rolls the map up. “At least if they were still possessed.”

Buffy asks, “Ethan, what does a person need to summon a demon from some other dimension?”

“Nothing they can buy in the Magic Box before you go casting aspersions.”

“But in general?”

“In general, it varies demon to demon. For some you need specific bones or weapons, or even a specific object, but most just require a chant, trance or a sacrifice.”

“A chant, trance or a sacrifice right outside Mr Platt’s office?”

“Kinda hard to hide” Willow nods. “Most summoning spells run over an hour.”

Giles shares a glance with Ethan, and his partner’s expression confirms he too is as curious as to how Willow knows that. It doesn’t escape Stela’s notice either, but she focuses on the issue at hand, telling the children, “Summoning isn’t generally done in a public place.”

“Exactly” Ethan adds, “Too lengthy and complicated. But possession rituals aren’t quite as gory: Perhaps someone did this while possessed and excised the demon when they were finished.”

Giles, uncomfortable at certain memories mention of possession rituals raise, steps away to make tea. Behind him, Stela asks, “Would a possessed person be able to kill so violently?” and Buffy replies, with an audible eye-roll, “Clearly you haven’t met any hyena people.”

“Or anyone really ready to snap” Faith adds. At their surprise she asks, “What? A big guy, with the right weapon – might not be anything demonic at all.”

Buffy shakes her head. “A human couldn’t do this.”

“Actually, the hair is human.” A voice from the doorway makes them all turn around. Stephen, still in his lab coat, approaches them and holds out a corked test tube, before noticing the newcomers.

Taking the test tube, Buffy says, “Dr Gregory, this is Faith, she’s a slayer, and this is Stela, she’s here to spy on my love life.” Before Stela can reply, she adds to Faith, “Dr Gregory teaches biology.”

“Faith Lehane? You missed my class this morning.”

“I had slayer stuff” Faith lies, and Buffy immediately says, “No you didn’t”

“Then why –” begins Stephen, and Giles, returning to the table, quickly interjects, “Stephen, the hair?”

“Right” Stephen hands Buffy a page of notes that she immediately passes to Willow. “Human. I’m positive.”

“This was from Jeff’s body, yes?” Giles examines the hair in the test tube. “Can we be sure it’s not Jeff’s?”

Willow shakes her head. “Jeff was blonde.”

“So that fits with possession, right?” asks Buffy. “Whoever did this still had a human body. Just not a human soul, apparently.”  She hands the test tube back. “Ethan, any chance you could do a truth spell again? Get this guy to confess?”

Ethan looks a little abashed. “Actually I used my only veracity stone in the last one I cast. I could order another, but it would take a day or so.”

“Right” Buffy frowns suddenly. “Wait: you said possession rituals are easier than actually unleashing a demon with a body?”

“Generally, yes”

“Could that have been done in school? I mean, I get summoning is all blood and roaring demon bursting forth so not of the subtle, but maybe no-one would notice a possession spell being done somewhere out the way?”

“Possibly” Ethan nods.

“Well that’s somewhere to start” agrees Giles. “But perhaps we could keep a close eye on our suspects too? I’m afraid whoever’s doing this won’t stop at two victims.”

“Right” Buffy nods. “I’ll look for the ritual space and you guys can tail everyone on the list between you. And maybe talk to their friends? See if they’ve fallen out with anyone so we have an idea who could be next.” She turns to Stephen. “Dr Gregory can you speak to some of these guys?” She indicates the list on the table. Stephen scans it and replies, “I have Daryl Roscoe and a few of his friends in my next class. I’ll find an excuse to keep them behind.” He turns to Faith. “Tuesday morning, Ms Lehane; I’m expecting you to be on time and fully equipped.” With that, he leaves, just as Stela says, “I could talk to some of them. Perhaps invite them to the library.”

Buffy nods, expression somewhere between annoyed and wary. “Okay. Then Giles maybe you could come with me? Because, well, you know what to look for with this stuff.”

“Yes” Giles agrees hastily, before she can elaborate any further in front of Stela and Faith.

Buffy turns to Willow. “Will, you and guys can talk to anyone involved with our suspects. You too Faith.” Either ignoring or not noticing the scowl Faith gives at the order, she adds, “Ethan, you can come with me and Giles”

“Or” replies Ethan, “I can get back to actually running my business. You don’t need both of us.”

“This is serious, Ethan” Giles chides.

“So is the money I lose when I’m shut for the afternoon rush and you don’t need my help for this one.” To Stela, Ethan adds, “They cope perfectly well with this sort of thing all the time. Usually they’ve got everything sorted by sunset, before certain persons even wake up.”

“Ethan” Giles removes his glasses, all the better to avoid catching sight of Buffy’s expression. Willow is suddenly very interested in the nearest book.

“I had wondered at Angelus absence” Stela replies. “My niece assures me he is vital to the safeguarding of innocents.”

“Well he makes an appearance every now and then…” Ethan concedes, and Buffy snaps, “Like the time he ‘made an appearance’ to save your life?”

“…but he’s not exactly in the core group.”

“Ethan” Giles says, his tone firmer this time. Beside him, Buffy tells his smirking fiancé, “The shop stays closed: You can get over to Willy’s Place and ask about demons that shred people.”

“I already know it’s not –” begins Ethan, before apparently re-evaluating Buffy’s expression and deciding that being excused to a bar is preferable to anything else she would like to do to him right now. Sending a friendly smile Stela’s way, he leaves them to it.

*****

Walking round campus with Buffy, Giles wonders if perhaps it would be a good idea to suggest at the next staff meeting that the school doesn’t need so many storage areas on top of the enormous basement. Half of it doesn’t seem particularly well used but all of it could make a decent nest for a wide range of demon species.

Some have apparently also been used by human smokers and – to Buffy’s loudly vocalised disgust – by a pair of amorous humans who at least thought to use protection, even if they then abandoned said protection on the floor. But no-one, apparently, has been using the space for possession rituals.

“Anything?” Buffy stares around the latest storage area, a large room near the science labs.

“Nothing mystical” Giles confirms, though he need hardly bother: Buffy may not be an expert on magic but she can see for herself the absence of its basic components: No candles, no herbs, no symbols. No blood.

Her next comment, though, reveals an ulterior motive for having him along: “Hey, Giles? Say Stela decides, _nope Angel’s dangerous, I’d better stay and keep an eye on him_ – what then?”

“Jenny was keeping an eye on him for a long time” Giles reminds her.

“Not thrilled about that either.” They head through a door into a connected store room with a high internal window. Buffy adds, “But Stela seems more hardcore than Jenny.”

“Jenny knows the situation here” Giles reminds her. “She knows Angel is capable of good.” He looks around, taking in boxes and empty space, nothing to suggest recent spellwork. Adds, “If Stela stays and doesn’t recognise that, then we’ll have lost an opportunity to have someone on hand to help Angel ensure the curse stays in place, but it’s not as though he hasn’t managed alone for years.”

“And he has us now” Buffy replies. “He doesn’t need some stranger.”

Giles reflects that a stranger’s perspective might be useful when it comes to the question of avoiding perfect happiness, but he says nothing. Buffy asks, “Could she break us up?”

“I don’t see how” Giles replies. “It’s possible she could persuade him to leave town, but not unless he was already considering it in any case.” He searches Buffy’s face for any sign that she might concede this to be a good idea, but she quickly looks away from him, steps away. “Well he isn’t.”

“There you are then” Giles makes no comment on the doubt in her voice, though he notes it with both relief and pity.

Rounding a stack of boxes, they find a welcome distraction. “What’s this stuff?” asks Buffy.

“Part of someone’s science project?” Giles guesses, but the setup looks sinister.

“Weird that it’s here.” Buffy tentatively takes up a glass beaker of glowing liquid. “Not that weird’s unusual in this school.” She goes to sniff the stuff and then seems to think better of it.

“It certainly isn’t from a possession ritual” Giles tells her.

“Maybe possession isn’t our poison after all. Maybe this is.” She turns to him. “Who on our list is into science?” Without waiting for an answer, she starts out the room. “Willow will know.”

Giles follows her after final glance at the bubbling, green-glowing liquid in its vials and piping.

Stepping into the corridor they quickly run into Ethan, who explains, “Thought I’d come back. No-one interesting at Willy’s.”

Buffy walks past him without pausing. “You were supposed to be gathering intel, not hanging with your buddies.”

“No-one there did it; I already knew that much. What’s that?” Ethan frowns at the beaker in Buffy’s hand.

“We’re not sure” Giles replies. “Ethan. Perhaps you should –” but before he can suggest Ethan head home, he catches sight of the darkening sky from a window as they head towards the central hallway. Better Ethan stay here, he deicides. He’d rather have his partner antagonise the situation with Stela and Buffy than meet whatever is responsible for the deaths.

Reaching the library corridor, Buffy exclaims, “Angel! But it’s only dusk.”

Giles comes to a sudden stop a little behind her. He wishes the vampire would make more noise. Since they had their brief taste of the demon unleashed, the silence of his movements can’t help but seem predatory, like having a tame leopard about the place. Angel tells them, “It’s dark enough and I couldn’t sleep. I thought you could use a hand.”

“Thanks” Buffy smiles. “Why don’t you go patrol the campus? See if can spot anyone acting suspicious – turning into demons, that sort of thing.”

He smiles. “Sure. I’ll see you later?”

“Later” Buffy confirms and Angel slips through a fire door after some lingering handholding that has Ethan rolling his eyes. As Buffy, Giles and Ethan continue to the library without him, Ethan comments, “He could have come with us. He has already met Steliana, you know” Buffy’s sharp glance confirm that she didn’t, actually, know. Giles wishes there was a way to subtly elbow his partner, not that a reminder-knock is what is needed: Ethan knows perfectly well he shouldn’t have said it; that’s why he did. Ethan adds, in a passable attempt at a naïve tone, “Which he’ll have told you all about, of course.”

Buffy scowls and ignores him, doesn’t speak until they reach the library, where she greets Stela with, “You could have mentioned you spoke to Angel.”

“So could he” Ethan leans against the counter behind her. Giles stands besides him. “Ethan: Leave it.”

Jenny is here with her aunt, the two of them seated at the table with Faith. Willow is cross-legged on the floor a few feet from the cage, which is already full of bristling werewolf. They all stare at Buffy, who plonks the beaker full of glowing chemical down on the table and adds, “Don’t drink that. Why didn’t you tell me you’d met him?”

“Buffy –” Jenny begins, and Buffy cuts her of with a raised palm, stares at Stela until she replies, “I assumed you knew. Ethan’s right – why didn’t he tell you?”

Before Buffy can respond, Giles steps forward and indicates the beaker of luminous chemical. “To focus on the small matter of the brutal murders –”

“It’s okay, Giles” Faith grins. “I solved ’em.” At Buffy’s renewed glare she adds, “I was just about to come and find you guys.”

Jenny explains, “Faith thinks she knows who’s likely to be summoning this thing. But I’m not sure –”

“I don’t think” Faith insists, “I know. B, you know Pete Clarner?”

“That he exists” Buffy shrugs. “What makes you think it’s him?”

“That’s the thing” Jenny puts in. “I’m not sure this is enough to go on.”

“It’s plenty to go on” Faith argues. “The guy’s creepy.”

“She is a slayer” Stela reminds her niece. “We should trust her instincts”

“Let’s have less from the newbies” Buffy retorts. “And how come I don’t have my instincts trusted?”

“I meant her instinct for identifying demons, not boyfriends.”

“Gotta say I’m with you on that” says Faith, while Buffy says, “Right, you mean her ability to find demons Angel can help us kill?”

Stela shrugs. “You have a sister slayer here now; you don’t need him for muscle.”

Amid the row, Willow picks herself off the floor and comes over to examine the beaker. Giles clears his throat meaningfully but the bickering continues. Buffy is saying, “Me and Faith can’t be everywhere at once. He helps people. And she’s not my sister.”

“Damn right” Faith leans back in her chair, a picture of boredom. “No offence B.”

Giles draws a chair out, pointedly letting it scrape across the floor, the noise finally interrupting the argument. “If you’re all quite finished?” Rewarded with chastised silence, he says, “Good. Now, Faith, what makes you suspect this Pete character?”

The new slayer shrugs. “Like I said, the guy’s creepy.” Finding them all still looking at her, Faith elaborates, “His girlfriend was on our list – went to Mr Platt and she did some music thing with Jeff. I spoke to them both after school.”

“And?” Buffy prompts.

“And he’s creepy.”

“Great” Buffy sits down despondently. “And if we slayed people on the basis of creepy that’d be problem solved.”

“Well, yeah” Faith nods, “It would be” Ethan comes over to join them, sitting down as Giles asks, “Creepy how?”

Faith shrugs. “Sort of…charming. Like he’s hiding something.”

“Charming?” Buffy frowns. “That’s what you’re basing creepy on?”

Another shrug. “It’s always the charming ones.”

“What is?”

“Scumbag guys” Faith, shuffles into a faux-relaxed pose, examines her perfect nails. Glances up at Buffy’s puzzled expression to add, “What, you think there’re all _do what I say bitch_ and waving their fists all the time? Why’d anyone stay with them then? They’re nice most of the time.”

“So we’re basing creepy on him being nice?”

“Nice in _that way_ ” Faith clarifies.

Buffy and Willow stare at her, blank-faced, but the grownups around the table are starting to show expressions of dawning understanding. Ethan supplies, “He’s controlling?”

“Way controlling.”

“That’s true” Willow reasons. “He’s in science club and he’s a little…off, you know? The way he talks about Debbie.”

“Debbie?” Buffy asks.

“His girlfriend.”

“Right. Wait, he’s in science club?”

“Yeah. Why?” Willow looks at the beaker in her hand. “Oh”

“Wait” Jenny takes the beaker and studies its glowing contents. “This has something to do with it?”

“Maybe” Buffy replies. “We didn’t find anywhere a spell’s been cast, but we found this being made in secret. Will, do you think you and Dr Gregory could find out what’s in in?”

“Sure” Willow stands up and takes the container. “You guys keep an eye on Oz”

“Stephen just left” Jenny gets to her feet. “I can drive you over to his place; he has equipment there.”

“Thanks. Bye Oz.”

As Willow leaves, the werewolf issues a grating whine. Buffy asks, “Faith, is Pete still on campus?”

“Could be”

“Okay. Then I’ll look for Debbie and you can go find Prince Charming.”

“Will do.” Faith’s grin is a little unnerving.

*****

Truthfully, Giles wouldn’t have imagined the story Debbie tells Buffy in the girls’ bathroom not an hour later was even possible. But everything fits, neatly filling the many gaps in their many theories and unifying them into one truth. Buffy leaves Debbie in the bathroom and returns to the library to tell them the situation and Stela leaves the library to extract the girl from the bathroom. Within the hour, she and Debbie are holed up in Giles’ office for a much-needed heart to heart, while Giles and Ethan drink tea in the main library and determinedly don’t talk about curses, Kalderash visitors, Buffy’s romantic life or Ethan’s tendency to stir. Elsewhere, Buffy, Faith and Angel are all searching for Pete and Giles and can only hope they find him before he hurts someone else: The lad sounds utterly deranged.

Deranged but human, so what they do when they find him is not a simple matter. Giles supposes he should ring the Council but he can’t do that right now without alerting Debbie.

Finally tiring of pacing, Oz lies down in his cage, turning a few times first, like a pet dog in a basket. Giles nods to the office door. “Perhaps I should see if they’re alright?”

“Of course they’re not alright.” Ethan replies. “One’s been beaten up by Dr Jekyll and the other’s had Buffy glaring at her all day.”

“Ethan.”

“I know, I know: leave it. I’m trying to.”

“You’re not trying terribly hard, I must say. And it was Mr Hyde who was the monster.”

Opening his mouth to reply, Ethan pauses and frowns. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That noise”

“Noise?” But then Giles hears it too: A scuttling, fast-paced tread. That is all the warning they get before a young man – or what looks like a young man beneath stretched, reddened skin and unnaturally bulging veins – bursts into the room, growling. Instantly, Oz is awake, teeth bared. Scrambling to his feet, Giles places himself between the figure in the doorway and Ethan, but the figure – Pete, it must be – simply stares at him blankly before yelling out, “Debbie!”

There is a scuffling beyond the office door and then the girl bursts out. “Pete!”

“What is this Debbie? Have you been here all this time talking about me?”

“No! No, I –” Her protestations are cut short with a cuff across the face. Grabbing a chair to swing at him, Giles steps forward. Pete throws him off easily, and he hits the floor next to Debbie, the chair landing on top of them. Stela materialises nearby, trying to pull Debbie, who is semiconscious and murmuring, into the relative safety of the office. Seeing Pete lunge for them, Giles kicks out, aiming for the brute’s ankles. Pete catches his foot and swings him.

This time he hits the cage, to the excitement of the werewolf inside it. Inside it with all the weapons, of course. Really should take a few weapons out before the full moon, Giles notes distantly. Across the library, Pete is looming over Stela and Debbie. Debbie is awake now and sobbing, “Pete, please!”

Giles staggers to his feet, only to stumble as Ethan, who is crouched beside the cage, clutches his arm. “Rupert!”

Giles shakes him off. “Ethan, get out of here!” Pete is grabbing Debbie now, lifting her towards him with an animalistic growl, and slapping Stela away when she trying to prise him off the girl. Hoping to pull the monster’s attention from them, Giles shouts, “Pete, that’s enough!”

To his surprise, Pete does look up – but then looks past him to Ethan. “What ’ya doing, old man?”

As Pete advances, Giles gets in front of Ethan, glancing back to see what Pete has noticed: Ethan has pulled his chalk from his pocket and is hastily scribbling symbols. “Ethan?”

“Rupert, look out!”

Spinning back round to face Pete, Giles throws a punch. Pete throws Giles.

Landing on the staircase, Giles grabs at the banister, pulls himself up, and – seeing Pete has a clear path to Ethan now – dives for the nearest chair, smashes it against the table in hope of breaking it up for a weapon. The noise causes Pete to turn, and he spots Stela pulling Debbie to her feet.

At the sight of his girlfriend standing, Pete snarls and lunges. Debbie screams, shields her face with her hands, while Stela tries to push Pete away and Giles tries to pull him back. He is too strong. For a confused and noisy moment, they are a mass of bodies, muscles tensed, tangled together as Pete shakes Debbie, slips his hands around her neck…

Suddenly, they are apart. Giles finds himself against the floor, vaguely aware of having been flung there by something strong and furry. Debbie is still screaming, hoarse gasps forcing their way from her throat, though she is free of Pete’s grasp now. Unable to reach the office, Stela is pulling her behind the relative shelter of the counter.

Unable to reach the office, Giles notes, because a werewolf is in the way: fur standing on end, Oz stares down Pete, who matches him snarl for snarl, hunched in a defensive pose. Giles rounds on his partner. “You undid the barrier?!”

“Well it’s got him off all of you hasn’t it?” Ethan struggles to his feet and gets into the cage, plucks a heavy axe from a shelf and slides it across the floor towards Giles.

Giles lifts it just as Debbie breaks away from Stela. “Leave him alone! Get off him!” She tugs at the werewolf’s tail before it can deliver a killing blow.

Oz turns, and for a horrible second they are in tableau, Stela backed against the counter, arm out towards Debbie who stands frozen at the sight of a werewolf about to leap. Giles can’t reach them in time.

Then Angel drops from the window.

Landing between the women and the werewolf he straightens and snarls. Oz snarls back, but spins at a movement from Pete. Faced with vampire on one side and monster on the other, the wolf makes the pragmatic decision to flee. Before Angel can give chase, Pete is on him. Judging that Angel can handle Pete, Giles tosses the axe aside and takes up the mercifully undisturbed tranquilizer gun from the far corner, ready to follow Oz.

At that moment the slayers arrive. Giles makes a quick decision – Buffy, because she knows Oz and won’t hurt him unless she really has to – and places the tranquilliser gun in her hands. “Oz went that way.”

“On it!” She runs off, leaving Faith to join the fray. Giles looks over to Ethan, who is still in the vacated cage and beckoning him to join him. “Stela, the cage!”

Stela starts to climb over the counter towards it, but then slips off and hooks Debbie around the waist, drags her around it and out of the way of the fighting. Debbie allows herself to be moved but doesn’t actively facilitate it, unmoving in Stela’s grasp and still staring, bewildered, at the scene before her. Between them, Giles and Stela get her into the cage. Ethan swings the door shut and bolts. “There. Now we should be –” and Ethan swears and ducks down as something heavy hits to grid.

It’s Faith, flinching as she hits the ground. Pushing past Ethan, Giles opens the cage door and kneels beside the girl. “Faith?”

“Damn” She reaches for her ankle. “Bastard’s strong.”

From the other end of the room, there is a roar that promises blood, but Angel pulls Pete back before he can run at them. Faith struggles to her feet and casually shoves Giles back into the cage. “Sorry Giles; you can’t get broken, Buffy would kill me.” She turns to re-join the fight –

And there is a snap. A thud. Debbie screams and sinks to her knees. Faith says, “Nice one.”

“Lucky angle.” Angel stares down at Pete’s corpse.

Stepping out the cage, Giles turns to Stela and indicates Debbie with a concerned nod. “Perhaps you could, err…”

“I’ll call Janna; she can drive her home.”  Stela helps the girl to her feet and leads her away. Giles asks Faith, “Are you alright?”

“Sure. ’Salready healing.”

“Then perhaps you could go and join Buffy? Oz is still loose.”

Angel heads to the door. “I’ll go help with that. I can smell him.”

“That’s really gross” comments Faith as she follows.

Giles turns to Ethan. “And you – are you okay?”

Ethan looks incredulous. “You’ve flown across the room at least three times and you ask if I’m alright?”

“I can’t feel it yet.”

“All the more reason for you to sit down” Ethan rights a chair and steers Giles into it. “There. Before you do yourself more an injury.”

“I was rather hoping the sitting down portion of the evening could be done at home.”

“Soon” Ethan reassures him. “But we’ll have to make a few arrangements first: you’ve got a corpse on your library floor.”

*****

Annoyingly, Giles’ injuries turn out to be a little more than bruises. Broken ribs are troublesome in any event but between Ethan’s fussing at home and Buffy’s fussing at school, he’s more than fed up with them by the end of the following morning. “Buffy, I keep telling you I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, you’re old.”

“Old? I’ll have you know I’m barely forty-four!”

“Exactly. Way too old to be kicked around the library.” Her tone is serious but her eyes are playful. “Now drink your tea.”

Giles takes a sip of the stuff she calls tea but which is in fact luke-warm milky water with tea leaves floating in it. “Thank you.”

He is rewarded with a smile. Then Buffy says, “Faith’s in school today. Actually did the showing up on time and going to lessons thing.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Yeah.” Buffy frowns. “Weird how she knew about Pete, right? I’d never know a guy was a monster just because he was too nice.”

Giles takes another obliging sip and sets the tea/mess aside. “Thankfully, you’ve never met that sort of monster.”

“And Faith has?”

“I don’t know all that much about her past” Giles hedges. It’s true but even if it weren’t, it is not his story to tell.

“She gets nightmares” Buffy confides. “About what Kakistos did to her watcher.”

“That’s to be expected, I think.”

“Right. I guess it is good she’s not in a motel room on her own then. Mom had a point there.”

“She did” Giles agrees. He adds, “Don’t you need to get to class?”

Buffy lifts her bag with a muttered, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice” and heads to the door, only to stop as Jenny enters. “Hi. Didn’t bring your aunt today?”

“Actually, Steliana has a flight to catch: she’s visiting the elders in Europe.”

“She is?” Buffy frowns. “Why?”

Jenny smiles. “She’s going to try to persuade them that we need a new approach to Angel. Actually work with him instead of just making him suffer. You guys convinced her.”

Giles asks, “And will she convince the elders?”

“I don’t know” Jenny admits. “But in the meantime, I’m the one watching Angel and I’m prepared to try it without their go ahead.”

“Good” Giles nods his approval. Buffy is breaking into a smile. She tells Jenny, “I still say he doesn’t need watching, but if it’s going to happen, at least it’s a scooby.”

“Thanks” Jenny glances at the clock. “I’ve got to get to class. I’ll see you guys later?”

“Later” Buffy smiles after her as she leaves. Turning back to Giles she says, “Well that’s of the good. At least Jenny won’t try to break us up.”

There’s a lot Giles could say to that about the strength of relationships but he limits himself to, “Well Jenny doesn’t hate Angel on a personal level. And him having help to avoid breaking the curse can only be a good thing.”

“Really not going to happen Giles; trust me on that.” Though Buffy adds, “But I guess there’s no harm in him having a watcher. I mean, I’ve got one and it’s mostly a happy thing.”

“Thank you.” “You’re welcome. Now, are you sure you don’t need me to stay, make you more tea?”

“Get to class Buffy.”


	43. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 3 episode 5, Homecoming, written by David Greenwalt, and some is from BtVS season 4 episode 13, The I in Team, written by David Fury.

Giles steps out of his office just as Buffy’s rather abashed-seeming friends are leaving the library. Buffy stares after them before turning to her one remaining ally. “Faith, you good to take the musicians? Get people voting who wouldn’t usually?”

The girl looks sulky. “I thought I got the athletes?”

“Yeah but that was when Oz was doing musicians.”

“I guess I could do both.” Faith breaks into a sultry grin. “It’s just, a girl gets tired, you know?”

“Faith. Just so we’re clear, I’m not asking you to actually do anyone.”

“I know, I know, I’ve just gotta try to get them interested in the most boring thing that ever happened without having any fun along the way.”

Giles glances between the two slayers before asking, “If you’re not enjoying this, Faith, why are you getting involved?”

Faith indicates Buffy “I’ve gotta live with this chick” before sliding off the table and stalking out the room. Giles turns to Buffy who stammers. “Yeah, look…it’s not like I’d…It’s nice for her to have a fun project.”

Giles can’t help a fond smile at the girl. “Just so long as fun is still in the mix.”

“Right” Buffy gives returns the smile with a forced one of her own. Giles asks, “And you’re enjoying it yourself? It seems a lot of fuss for one little title.”

“I’m fine Giles. It’s not like anyone takes it all that seriously.” Buffy hastily sets aside her bottle of juice. Giles tells her, “For the record, I’m sure you’ll win. But it should be a pleasant occasion either way.”

“I dunno. Can you imagine how much Cordelia would gloat?”

“I’ll be there” Giles reassures her, “I won’t allow any gloating.”

“You’re chaperoning?”

“No, but I’ll be working late in any case; I may as well stop by.” He has to see her crowned, after all.

*****

“Who is he?” Buffy is asking Faith as Giles enters the library the next day. The two girls are sitting cross legged on the counter and Giles clears his throat loudly. Startled, Buffy scrambles off and offers and apologetic look. Faith stays where she is but greets him with, “Hey Giles.”

“Faith. Perhaps you could –”

“I’m going soon anyway. Bio with Dr Greg.” Faith stays seated.

It is said of parenting that one must pick one’s battles. Giles reflects that the same is true of watching. “Alright” he says. “But in future, don’t get up there in the first place.”

“You got it” replies Faith, with all the sincerity of one who already has a favoured counter-top position. Giles sighs and retreats to the office.

In the main library beyond, Buffy says, “You still haven’t told me.”

“Not gonna. None of your business, B.”

“I have to put up with your snoring, I think hearing about your love life is called compensation.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You snore _through the walls_!” After a pause, Buffy asks again: “Come on; who is he?”

“Just some guy.”

“Some guy who’s so important you’re not riding in the limo with us?”

Of course: Willow must have recruited Faith into their laudable scheme to repair things between Buffy and Cordelia. In case the second slayer needs any help with her cover story, Giles steps out of the office, mug in hand. Buffy is asking, “You can’t even tell me his name?”

“What makes you think I know his name? Maybe I just liked the look of his ass when I went canvassing in the boys’ locker room.”

“Faith? Remember when we agreed to Never Talk About That?”

Faith shakes her head as if at an unreasonable level of prudishness. Buffy prompts, “He must have a name?”

“Buffy” says Giles, “Perhaps you could let Faith tell you in her own time.” As he speaks, Faith bursts out, “It’s Scott Hope!”

“What?” Buffy stares at her and Faith cracks up: “What? I’m kidding! He’s really not my type, B.”

Giles glances at Buffy, who looks to be somehow simultaneously annoyed and relieved. He asks, “Scott Hope?”

“Just some guy” mutters Buffy.

“Who was totally flirting with you when you were handing out flyers.”

“He was not” Buffy’s tone is laced with a warning. Deciding this is really not a conversation he can have any part in after all, Giles steps away from the counter and busies himself with some books. Behind him, Faith says, “Admit it, when I said I was going with him, you freaked.”

“I did not! I don’t care who Scott Hope goes with.”

“As long as you don’t have to hear about it, right?”

“Seriously Faith: he’s got nothing to with me.”

“Bet he’d like to change that.”

“Enough! Don’t you have cupcakes to give out before science?”

“Whatever. I’ll be sure to save a good one for Scotty from you.”

“Faith!” Buffy glares as her fellow slayer slides off the counter, lifts a basket of baked goods from the table and leaves. “Giles, you didn’t hear any of that, okay?”

“It’s none of my business, Buffy.”

“It’s not mine either – I don’t have any business with Scott Hope.”

“I’m sure.” Noticing how troubled Buffy looks, Giles asks, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah” replies Buffy unconvincingly. “I’m just tired, you know? Canvassing kind of takes it out of you.”

“I see” Giles waits.

Telling him what the matter is directly would be too simple, but Buffy does let him in on the issue in a round about why by saying, as she lifts her own basket, “He’s not coming, by the way.”

“He?” Oh.

“Angel. So you can bring Ethan.”

“Oh. Right, well…” Still focused on his slayer’s unhappy expression, Giles sets thoughts about whether Ethan will even be interested in a high school dance and whether he could be trusted to behave himself even if Angel were around aside, to ask, “Is everything alright? Um, between you two.” Gods but he is the last person suited to asking.

Apparently Buffy thinks so too, because for all she still looks troubled, she replies, “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. Just not his thing, you know? And he’s way old. I mean, he might not look his age, but he does still look older than me. Plus the romance…not good for the whole, um, non-touching thing. We just figured why make things harder.”

The resignation in her voice makes Giles’ heart ache. “You could always talk to Jenny you know” He tells her gently.

“Kind of an ulterior going on there.”

“But still, she’s a sympathetic adult who knows the situation.”

“Yeah. But. It’s fine. Look, Giles, I’ve got to go, okay? Got to hand these cakes out before Cordelia gets round with hers. See you later?”

“See you later, Buffy. Good luck with all this.” Giles smiles as she leaves the library but he knows it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

*****

“Well this is no fun. You told me it would be fun.”

“I told you you were welcome to join me. I didn’t say it would be fun.”

Ethan gives Rupert a sidelong look. “The implication was it would be fun.”

“It’s fine for what it is, Eth: a high school dance. Were you expecting a rave?”

“Well maybe with a little magic…” Catching Rupert’s expression, Ethan rolls his eyes. “Kidding, kidding.”

“You had better be.”

Ethan indicates Xander and Willow across the room. “Even the young people aren’t enjoying themselves.” The two of them have been moping since the event began, so it can’t be boredom, though Willow wouldn’t tell him what it actually is. Possibly she wishes Oz could be with her instead of on stage. Ethan knows how that feels from Rupert’s band days.

At least Faith is having fun. Canvassing for Buffy seems to have given her an opportunity to get to know her fellow students and she’s the centre of attention on the other side of the room from the moping. Ethan is about to comment on this when Rupert says, “How about we retreat to the library for a bit?”

Honestly Ethan only agrees because he hopes there might be some scope for seducing Rupert in the office but all his efforts are met with a look that makes clear Rupert will not succumb to him at work.

“You’re no fun anymore” Ethan gripes. “You used to let me seduce you at work all the time.”

“I work in a school now, Ethan. And ‘all the time’ is an exaggeration.” Rupert gently detaches him and leans against the counter. Noticing the answer phone’s display, he presses play. The good-natured tolerance in his eyes is replaced by rising alarm as he listens to Buffy’s message.

“Miller’s Wood?” repeats Ethan. “How on earth did they end up there?”

“I don’t know. We should –”

“Rupert, look out!”

It’s too late. The vampire materialised so suddenly, Ethan suspects he was hiding somewhere the whole time. Clobbering Rupert on the head, he lets him drop to the floor and turns to Ethan with a smirk. Much as Ethan wants to push him aside to check Rupert’s pulse, he doubts he has the strength, and suspects now is not the time for sudden movements. All academic anyway: Ethan can’t seem to make himself move. The vampire says something that Ethan suspects he would find both crude and offensive if he understood cowboy slang. His eyes fix on something over Ethan’s shoulder and Ethan realises, with a cold dread, that another one is behind him. The blow that follows knocks all thought from his skull and the world goes blank.

*****

Waking, Ethan gradually becomes aware of two things: Firstly, the vampires are still around. Secondly, Buffy is at his eye level a few feet away. Given that his eye level is currently the floor, this isn’t promising. Ethan blinks a few times to clear his vision, and stares at Buffy. Yes, she’s definitely unconscious…Oh, and Cordelia seems to be in charge of defeating their attackers. Wonderful.

Closing his eyes again, Ethan drifts.

The next thing he’s aware of is Rupert holding an icepack to his head. “Ethan?”

“Morning.”

“It’s not morning love. We’re in the library.”

“Oh” Ethan turns his head to take in a very dishevelled Buffy and Cordelia. “Hello all.”

Rupert asks, “Do you remember what happened?”

“Well, you decided to return to the sodding watchers and they sent you to Sunnydale, so naturally I ended up being clobbered on the head by a vampire.”

Cordelia smiles. “Putting the blame where it belongs: You got to respect that.”

Rupert looks put out. “Actually, I’d say the blame belongs with the vampires.” He helps Ethan sit up. “Are you okay?”

“I think so” Ethan replies. “Speaking of vampires, where are they?”

“I staked one” Buffy informs him. “And a conversation with Cordelia scared the other one away. I can relate.”

“He thought I was Faith” Cordelia explains with a put-out expression, though her tone is good natured enough.

“I see” Ethan examines their mud-splattered gowns. “And what happened to the two of you?”

“Slayer stuff” is Buffy’s response. “Just your usual being hunted down by demons and strange men with bear traps and grenades.”

“Sounds more fun than the dance” Ethan tells her.

Buffy’s eyes widen. “Oh shoot – the dance! Have we missed it? Did they announce the winner yet?”

“You’ve still got time to clean up” Rupert reassures her. He helps Ethan off the floor and into a chair.

Cordelia is examining her outfit. “Yeah” she says, “Clean ourselves, but what about the dresses?”

Buffy casts a forlorn glance at her own dress. “I think that’s kind of a lost cause.”

“No-one will mind” Rupert tells them, but he’s not focused on the dresses, placing the icepack back against Ethan’s head. Not really necessary, Ethan decides, but he rather likes Rupert fussing over him, so he says nothing.  

“At least we still have the corsages” Buffy is saying. “Gonna have to thank the guys for that.”

“They got you those?” Rupert glances over. “That’s nice. I don’t recall them mentioning corsages.”

Behind Rupert, Ethan can see Buffy frown and study her corsage more closely. “Giles? Jungle Bob said that the Germans were hooked into a computer system.” She holds her corsage out for his inspection. “And they’re hooked into us.” A small wedge of metal, some transmitter or tracker is hidden amongst the silk flowers. Rupert lowers the ice pack.

“Fetch Willow” Ethan tells him. “She’s better with magic on technolo –” A loud crash interrupts him, echoing somewhere out in the school’s network of hallways. Buffy jumps to her feet. “No time” She turns to Rupert. “I need some wet toilet paper.”

Ethan adds, “And I need a copy of Witchcraft and the Elements by Violetta Hogarth.”

Glancing between them, Rupert heads to a shelf. “Cordelia, there’s a box of tissues in my office – wet some with the water in the kettle.”

“Right” Cordelia moves towards the office but Buffy skirts around her and gets there first, emerging with dripping tissue. She asks Ethan, “Can you disable the trackers with magic?”

“I can ionise the atmosphere and confuse things” he explains. “But only temporarily.”

“Uh huh.” She detaches her corsage and pulls out the tracker, wedges it in the sopping tissue. “Then I’ll take this one and lead them away from you guys. Once they stop honing on this, I’ll know the magic’s in play and I’ll take them out then while they’re distracted with where the signal went.” She hurries out into the hallway.

“Good luck” Cordelia murmurs in her wake.

Rupert hands the required book over and Ethan hurriedly flicks through the pages. “Ah: here it is.”  He begins the chant, following the print with one finger: Tropo, strato, meso, aero, iono, exo. Aer, terra, aqua, ignis. Fiat caelum audite. Aer, terra, aqua, ignis. Elements are brought to bear.  Wind, earth, and water churn amidst the fire.  Let the air be burn –” There is a crack as the lightbulb shatters above them and sparks rain down. Magic pulses around them.

Ethan lifts his head to find Rupert and Cordelia sporting rather interesting hairstyles. Rupert hurries to grab the fire extinguisher but none of the sparks seem to have caught. Beside him, Cordelia lifts her hands to her vertical tresses and groans. “No! No my hair was the only part still kind of clean and normal!”

“Well, actually –” begins Ethan, but at her very Buffy-esque glare. He drops his gaze and flattens his own hair back down.

Marching towards the door, Cordelia states: “I hate magic. And I hate knifey demons, and cowboy vampires, and creepy German guys and –”

“Cordelia” Rupert asks, “Where are you going?”

“Where I was meant to be already – I’m going to the dance!” Cordelia pauses. “Possibly by way of the girls’ locker room.” She heads to the door again.

“Wait” Rupert calls after her. “We’d best make sure the danger’s passed before you go.”

“I’m sure it’s –” Cordelia stops again as a crash sounds, and holds up her hands in defeat. “Fine, I’ll stay. Giles, do you have a mirror?”

*****

“Tracker’s still stuck to the wall in Mrs Miller’s classroom” Buffy informs them later as they stand over the bound, gagged and unconscious German twins. “Course the wall’s kinda in the parking lot now; I got behind them while they were firing at it and by the time the spell hit they were out of bullets.”  

“Good thinking” says Rupert. “Why don’t you two go ahead to the dance? I imagine they’ll be all set to announce the winner by now.”

Buffy and Cordelia glance at each other. Cordelia says “At least my hair’s deflated.”

“Don’t worry” says Buffy. “We can walk in together.”

As they leave, Ethan asks Rupert, “Why don’t we go too?” He indicates the twins. “It’s not like they’re going anywhere. I thought you wanted to see Buffy crowned?”

“I did, but I think it best not to leave these two unguarded.”

“We could put them in the cage.”

“Possibly” Rupert concedes. “But let me phone the Council first, see if they’ll send someone to collect them.”

*****

In the end, the twins are taken away by the regular police, the Council having crosschecked their records to identify them as mere human criminals. What they were doing in a small-town high school baffles the officers who take them away, but prospect of a big arrest – the men were wanted internationally – overrides any in-depth inquiry.

Finally free to head back to the dance, Giles leads Ethan back down the hallway, asking him, “Are you sure you’re alright?” His partner had taken longer than Giles would like to come round, and then followed regained consciousness with magic far too soon.

“I told you I’m fine” Ethan replies. “Gods, if I made this fuss every time you got clonked on the head, we’d never have time for anything else.” Still, his smile tells Giles he is rather enjoying the attention.

They enter the hall to find the music has taken a truly ghastly turn. Clusters of teens sway in semi-darkness. Giles’ eyes find Buffy out and he feels more disappointed than he was prepared for when he notes that she isn’t wearing a crown. She is standing in a corner, looking a little less unkempt.

As they approach, they are overtaken by a young man Giles doesn’t recognise. He speaks briefly to Buffy, something that Giles doesn’t catch, and looks a little crestfallen at her reply. Drawing closer, Giles hears him say, “Well, for what it’s worth, I voted for you. Oh, and you look great tonight. Even with the mud.”

“Thanks Scott” Buffy smiles after him as he re-joins his friends, before turning to greet Giles and Ethan. “Hey”

“Hello, Buffy” Ethan replies. “I take it commiserations are in order?”

“Yeah; I didn’t win. But Cordelia didn’t either, so we’re kind of even.”

“At least neither of you were hurt” says Giles. “And now the pressure of the competition is past, you can enjoy the party.”

Her smile wavers slightly. “Actually I was about to leave. Not really feeling the homecoming vibe.”

“Do you want a lift home?”

Smile disappearing altogether, Buffy shakes her head. “Thanks, but I’m good. I’ll see you on Monday, Giles. ’Night Ethan.”

As she walks off, Ethan shakes his head and explains, “She isn’t going home.”

“Ah” Giles watches his slayer leave and hopes she doesn’t linger too long at Angel’s. Turning his attention back to Ethan he adds, “But we should.”

They leave Sunnydale’s student population safe for now and enjoying the dance, apart from Willow and Xander, apparently, who still seem inexplicably subdued as they wave them goodbye.

 

 

 


	44. Band Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter comes from BtVS season 3 episode 6, Band Candy, written by Jane Espenson.

“Hey Ethan” Marvin greets him, sliding a drink across the bar. “This is from that guy over there with the antlers.”

Scanning the room, Ethan clocks the Chaos demon. Probably safe to accept the drink then. Sacrilegious not to really, like being rude to a vicar (something Ethan ironically has no problem with). Said drink in hand he heads over to the demon, smiling as he recognises, “Sigmund! How are you?”

“Rayne!” The demon gathers Ethan into a rather slimy hug. Ethan stretches an arm to keep his drink away from the embrace. Breaking apart, they slip into an empty booth and exchange small talk about mutual friends and enemies back in London. After a few such pleasantries, Ethan sidesteps homesickness by asking, “So what brings you to the hellmouth?”

“I’m just passing through” Sigmund replies. “Wasn’t even sure I was going to stop by but then I get a call from Trick. You heard of him?”

“Heard of Slayer Fest” Ethan replies, his voice casual but the warm feeling that comes with meeting an old friend dissipating: if Sigmund is up to something slay-worthy, it puts Ethan in a difficult situation to say the least. Setting his empty glass aside he asks, “Why? Are you working with him?”

“Nah; I’ve got to be in the dessert before Mars and Jupiter align. You know how it is. But from what he said, he’s offering a more than enough to make it worth anyone’s while, plus the chance for some Chaos. So I said I’d introduce you.”

“You did?” This, if anything, is an even more difficult situation. Hard to turn down Chaos and yet Ethan doesn’t want to be caught doing anything slay-worthy himself. Polite smile fixed to his face, he searches his mind for any suitable excuse, but before he can come up with one, Sigmund lifts his antlered head to nod to someone coming in. “Ah – here he is. Hey, Trick.”

“Sig.” The vampire accepts a drink from Marvin but doesn’t offer to pay for it and isn’t asked to. Coming over he offers Ethan his hand. “And this must be Mr Rayne. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleasure’s all mine” Ethan shakes the proffered hand. Cold, of course.

The vampire takes a seat and Sigmund slides over to make room for him. More room than he’d make for Ethan, Ethan notes. Trick is smiling with all the confidence of a creature used to others making way, making room, handing over free drinks. He’s dressed in a suit Ethan is a little jealous of. “So” Trick says. “I’ve heard about you. Quite the reputation you’ve got, least according to Sig here.”

“Yeah” Sigmund agrees. “It’s like I said: You want a true artist in the Chaos business; Rayne’s your man.”

Flattered, Ethan allows himself to smile a little.

“That’s what I need” Trick leans back, getting comfortable. “Guy I work for’s got a promise to keep and keeping it’s gonna have to involve city-wide distraction. Something to keep the authorities and the slayer busy. You up for that?”

“I could be” replies Ethan. A true artist may as well hear them out, after all.

*****

Pacing the living room, Rupert pauses to ask, “And you’ve known Mr Trick how long?”

“I don’t” replies Ethan from the sofa, where he’s lounging with his legs out, ankles crossed, watching the pacing. “We just have some mutual friends.”

Rupert runs a hand across his face. “Mutual friends with a soulless vampire?”

“It’s not like your past is entirely blameless either.”

Rupert nods, chastened. He sits down at last and, judging the initial shock to have passed, Ethan tells him, “I could always turn the job down. Sigmund’s got to know that whatever they need the distraction for is darker than I usually go.”

“What do they need the distraction for?”

“A tribute to something called Lurconis” 

“I see. That sounds ominously like ‘glutton’, doesn’t it?”

“Yes it does. But you see if I cause a distraction which is, well, distracting without actually incapacitating anyone, and Buffy knows the details in advance, then that’s probably better than Trick hiring someone else, isn’t it?”

“Probably” Rupert concedes. He eyes Ethan. “Wouldn’t that go against chaos?”

“Not necessarily. I could still make it chaotic while asking a few questions.”

“It puts you at risk.”

“I’d only need to find out one or two little details.”

“Little details that Trick may not want you to have.” Rupert frowns. “Are you sure he doesn’t know about our connection?”

“Fairly certain. I don’t remember ever telling Sigmund much about my love life. Besides, Chaos demons are usually so bored by monogamy, he’d probably forget even if I even did mention you.”

“I’m not sure if I ought to be relieved or offended that you don’t tell your demon friends about me.” Rupert huffs out his exasperation and decides, “Well then. What sort of distraction did you have in mind?”

“Don’t you worry; I’ll think of something. You just concentrate on warning your slayer and finding out who’s going to be made a meal of.”

*****

“How long will it take to kick in?” asks Trick, watching Ethan add the final herbs to the contents of the industrial mixing bowl.

“Up to twelve hours” Ethan replies. “So we’ll have to get them out well in advance. For a cumulative dose I’d say at least a few days before the big night.” He kneels to empty a bag from the blood bank into a second bowl and dips his finger into the red liquid, starts dabbing symbols on the side of the larger bowl. Initially he’d started with a pre-anointed cauldron, but it turns out that, when working with chocolate, actual cooking utensils are more practical. Glancing at Mr Trick, he asks, “Will that be alright?”

“Should be fine. I can get people in to do the packing and deliveries.”

“Good” Hoping for more information than the vampire has provided so far, Ethan adds, “And the selling, perhaps? Unless you’re certain this band candy thing will distribute it widely enough?”

“Oh I think you’re underestimating the word of mouth model of sales strategy. People’ll come to us. Least they will if these things are as addictive as they should be.”

“Oh, they will be” Ethan finishes the symbols and straightens up. He offers Trick the remaining blood. “You want to lick the bowl out?”

“My favourite part of baking.” The vampire grins and  takes the bowl, runs a finger around the inside. Taking advantage of his distraction, Ethan tries, “So when the packers show up I can tell them to put it all in the van ready for the school?”

“Yeah” Trick licks his finger and frowns thoughtfully. “Maybe put one box aside for someone to take over to the hospital. Tell them it’s a goodwill gesture.”

“The hospital?” Ethan keeps his tone neutral, schools his face into an expression of mild confusion.

“We need the folk there as carefree as possible” Trick explains. “Have them address the box to the maternity unit.”

Ethan nods and takes more time than he needs over the final preparations. Nothing good would come from hurrying off right after Trick shares a confidence.

To that same end he goes all the way home before making the call, resists the urge to duck into a phone booth. Finally home with the door locked, he calls Rupert at the library to tell him, “I know what the tribute is.”

*****

“Could you do a truth spell?” Willow asks Ethan a few nights later.

“Technically” Ethan confirms. “But the only truth spells that work on vampires involve lots of chanting and casting of incense over the intended target, so I suspect he’d notice.”

“Oh, that’s drawbacky.”

Willow is not the only adolescent to have invaded their living room: Buffy is beside her, Faith is lounging on the floor by the coffee table and, somewhat alarmingly, Xander is flicking through a spell book. Giles confiscates it on his way past from the bookcase. “Try this one” he tells Ethan, handing him a different volume. “It says it works on any demon species.”

“Tried it already” Ethan tells him, scanning the location spell. “It was in that first book we tried.”

“And which I apparently can’t be trusted with” Xander adds pointedly.

“Absolutely you can’t” Giles agrees, taking a seat. After all, the only time the boy dabbled with magic, it was a love spell.

Xander feigns outrage before admitting, “Actually that disrobing spell was getting kinda tempting.”

“I can still kick your ass naked” Faith tells him.

Xander looks struck by that idea, but thankfully Buffy swiftly changes the topic with, “So can’t we try it again? I mean, a spell for finding demons should, you know, find a demon.”

“I think it means any mundane demon species.” Ethan explains.

“Mundane?”

“Any that have some element of human in their DNA” Ethan explains. “In other words any demon you’ve ever seen.”

“Have you seen the same demons we’ve seen?” asks Faith. “Cause we’re talking scales and horns here.”

“Exactly” says Buffy. “The things we slay are not of the human.”

“Not any more” Giles tells her, not surprised she hasn’t remembered any of her introductory demonology lessons. “But the demons that live on earth now are descended from humans the old ones contaminated before their retreat to the underworld.”

Willow asks, “Old ones as in the original demons?”

Ethan nods. “Could be Lurconis is one of them, or at least close enough that the spell doesn’t recognise him.” He frowns. “Or he could be coming in from a different dimension that the spell can’t reach.” Faith sighs. “So in other words we can’t find him before this tribute thing?”

“That’s looking likely, I’m afraid” confirms Giles. And he is afraid: the tribute is days away; hours and hours in which Trick could discover Ethan has been passing on information to the slayers, or even just turn on him in a fit of rage or hunger. Much as Ethan has assured him he’s being careful, and much as he’s passed information on before, this feels different. This is a high profile vampire, worthy of several mentions in the previous watchers’ journals even before he started working for Kakistos. It’s one thing for his fiancé to be gathering information from gossip in demon bars, another for him to regularly be alone with a monster like Trick.

Buffy is saying, “At least we know what the tribute is now: we can be at the hospital to meet them.”

Willow nods. “Maybe we could borrow some nurses’ uniforms so we blend in until the candy sinks in.”

“Sorry, Will” Buffy shakes her head. “It’ll be me, Angel and Faith there on the night.”

“Angel in a nurse’s uniform” Xander muses. “There’s a place my mind didn’t want to go.”

“I’ll be there too” Giles tells them.

“Okay” Buffy agrees. “But I don’t want the rest of you guys in danger. Willow, you can focus on hacking into the hospital security cams to check there aren’t any other babies in different wards.”

“So I will be there” insists Willow. “I can’t exactly do anything about it from my room if I see them finding a baby somewhere else.”

“Fine: You’ll be there in a heavily barricaded room.”

“She’s right, Wills” Faith adds. “These guys are hardcore – best you leave it to us superpowered chicks.” Her tone is benign enough but her words are loaded and Willow meets them with a wounded stare.

Sounding put out, Ethan amends with, “What she’ll be doing is putting a barrier spell on the hospital so the vampires can’t get in in the first place.”

“Yeah” Willow brightens at the prospect of magic. “I can do that.”

“I dunno” Faith frowns. “We’d have to pick them off outside then; might not get them all.”

“What” mutters Willow, “even with your superpowers and everything?”

Tentatively, Xander points out, “If they get there and can’t get in, one of them might give you guys the slip and find babies somewhere else.”

“That’s true” muses Buffy. “Maybe better to trap them in the building.”

“I’ll just put the barrier around the maternity ward, then” decides Willow. “And then get into the computer system.”

“Right” Buffy nods. “Ethan, how’s the candy coming along?”

“It’s all set to go” Ethan confirms.

“And people won’t be too, you know, out of it? I’m just wondering how safe the rest of the town will be while we guard the babies.”

“The rest of the town will be no more out of it than the average teen” Ethan assures them.

Giles thinks about the likes of Harmony Kendall and shudders. “That might be an issue, Eth.”

“Hey!” Buffy offers a mock scowl. “We’re mostly not out of it.”

“Yeah” says Xander. “We’re in it.”

Faith wrinkles her nose. “In trouble more like” she says. “Have you seen the guys at school?”

“Sitting right here” says Xander.

“Well at least you know not to go up to a demon and start beefing on it.” Faith shrugs. “Percy or Larry on the other hand…”

“Are not demon food yet” Ethan reminds her. “And would probably defend babies if you think about it.”

“Yeah” says Xander, “And then Percy would drop them on the head.”

“I wouldn’t worry about the rest of the town” Ethan reiterates. “Trick has warned the demons not involved in the tribute to keep a low profile.”

“Why?” asks Buffy.

“I assumed out of respect for the feeding ritual.”

“Demons are weird.” Buffy shrugs the detail off before asking, “Do you know who you’re working for yet? Who Trick’s working for?”

“I haven’t asked” Ethan replies. “Rule one of subcontracting: don’t ask.”

“Kind of contradicts the first rule of undercover” Buffy tells him. Giles quickly interjects, “The first rule of undercover is don’t get caught.”

Buffy looks suitably chastised. “Right. Sorry Ethan; obviously don’t do anything that’ll put you in danger.”

Like go under cover with a murderous vampire, Giles reflects bitterly. Meanwhile, Ethan smiles. “I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear, you know that.”

*****

“Band candy” Principal Snyder shoves a box of Ethan’s chocolates under Giles’ nose when he enters the staffroom the next day.

“Um. Yes.” Giles manages. He glances over to Jenny and Stephen, who are seated in their usual corner…eating the candy. Giles glares at them and they look suitably chastised but don’t put their bars down.

Snyder gives the box a little shake. “The supplier sent us a complimentary box. It was thoughtful. Take one.”

“I, err…” Giles searches for an excuse. “I’m allergic.”

“Allergic?”

“To, um. To nuts.”

Across the room, Jenny cracks up.

“That’s precisely the woolly-headed liberal thinking that puts off one’s employer form sponsoring one’s green card renewal application.”

Giles sighs. It is actually some time before his immigration status is up for renewal and the Council are more than capable of stepping in if there is a problem with that, but it would be a bother if that was needed. Not to mention, Snyder has it in his power to make Buffy’s life harder at any provocation. Apparently not eating chocolate on demand is provocation today. Wearily, Giles takes a bar and slips it into his pocket. 

“Eat it now” Snyder tells him. “Wouldn’t want to get any on the library books.”

“I’ll have it at lunch.”

“You have lunch in the library.”

Sighing again, Giles takes the bar out of his pocket, unwraps it and takes a carefully small bite.

Appeased, Snyder lets him pass. He heads over to Stephen and Jenny, greeting them with, “What on earth has gotten into the pair of you? I warned you to avoid the band candy!”

“Oh, like you just did?” Jenny retorts.

“He put me on spot.”

“He put me on the spot too” Jenny shrugs. “Told me computer science isn’t a core part of the curriculum and he might need to review which students are allowed to take my classes.”

“He told me he might have to cancel the science fair” puts in Stephen. “I decided a small dose was worth it in the circumstances.”

“Well what’s gotten into him?” asks Giles, absent mindedly taking another bite of the chocolate.

“The mayor” Jenny informs him. Then she smirks and adds, “Probably not literally.”

“How much of this have you had?” Giles confiscates her bar and puts it in his pocket. Then he frowns. “The mayor?”

“Yeah” Jenny reaches for another chocolate bar from a bowl on a nearby table. “I went to his office this morning to sort out an IT thing and he was on the phone to the mayor’s office. They’re sponsoring the band candy.”

“They are?” Giles’ mind races through scenarios: are the mayor’s office unwittingly financers of Trick’s plan or does he work for them? Is someone at the mayor’s office Ethan’s employer?

“Weird, huh?” Jenny takes another bite.

“We should throw these away” Giles says, though he makes no mover to do so.

“Yeah, yeah” Jenny finishes her second bar.

“Just as soon as he’s not watching” adds Stephen, nodding to Snyder.

“We’ll just have bit” Jenny decides. “Or it’ll look odd.”

Aware of the principal’s eyes on him from across the room, Giles finishes his own chocolate. Still being watched, he finds himself reaching into his pocket for the next. One or two can’t hurt after all.

*****

“Hello luv” Rupert waves lazily as Ethan hurries in. “Wanna smoke?” He’s sprawled across the floor while some very retro music blares.

“Rupert? Are you alright? I came as soon as I got your message, I –” Ethan stops when he realises Rupert isn’t alone: lounged around the room are Jenny, Joyce and Stephen, all smoking something suspect and smiling casually up at him. Empty wrappers are strewn around them. “Oh for Janus’ sake. You ate the candy, didn’t you?”

“I only had one ’cause Snyder insisted all the staff share a box” explains Rupert.

“Right” Jenny agrees. “And then he had another one, and another…”

“Couldn’t upset the little ponce, could I?” Rupert reasons. “Anyway, you’re the one who didn’t warn me they’re addictive.”

“Well of course they’re addictive, love.” Ethan tries to look stern as he crouches down beside his partner. “Just one wouldn’t have much effect.”

“Well we were all doomed” Stephen complains. “Everyone at school’s been munching on them all day.”

“It made the lessons more interesting” Jenny concedes. “I taught mind to hack.”

“We blew up potassium.”

“We should have just walked out. School’s dead.”

Ethan eyes Joyce, who is opening a bottle of Kahlua. “And what’s your excuse?”

“I needed a break” replies Joyce in the tone of one asked an unreasonable question. “Faith and Buffy both expect me to do everything! It’s totally unfair! I just thought one would help me relax.”

“So you all went and hexed yourselves” Ethan concludes.

Rupert waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t get your knickers twisted, Eth. Might damage the contents.”

Ethan sighs and strokes Rupert’s hair. “I’m supposed to be at the warehouse.”

“I only called ’cause I missed you.”

“Oh Rupert. How old do you feel?”

“I don’t sodding know! I still remember everything. But I feel…I suppose… eighteen? Like I did when I was just starting at uni. But with all my memories from after too. ’S’like being high.”

“Makes sense. You pretty much constantly were.” Ethan confiscates the roll up. He’d had to put up with hell-by-proxy back when Rupert quit – he isn’t going through all that again. “Where’s Buffy?”

“She’s off guarding the hospital. I offered to help but she made me stay here, the dozy cow.”

“Hey” Joyce interrupts. “That’s my baby you’re talking about” She swigs from her bottle. “God, I can’t believe I had a baby.”

“Well I told her I can handle myself.” Rupert shrugs and stares up at Ethan. “But she wasn’t having it. So I came back here and called you.”

“How flattering.”

“We should go out, tear things up a bit.”

“Things are already well-torn.” Ethan runs his hand through Rupert’s hair. He has a great desire to film all this, this last appearance of his first and only love in his first manifestation.

Hell, why should they stay in? This is a night of beautiful Chaos, and it isn’t as if Buffy and Faith really need any help. “Alright, Ripper, let’s go out. Just let me have a few of these.” He reaches for the remaining candy bars.

*****

“I just thought” slurs Ethan. “You know that diagram thing? With the circles.”

“No” Ripper runs a hand through Ethan’s hair, presses him tighter against the brick wall.

“Yes you do. The diagrams with the circles.”

“All I know is you’re drunk.”

“Stephen, you know what I’m talking about” Ethan shifts a little to turn his head and appeal to Stephen, who is crossed legged on the ground before the smashed shop front. “You know the diagrams with the circles?”

“Pie charts?” asks Stephen. He doesn’t look up, focusing on the gadget in his hand.

“No” Ethan tilts his head back as Ripper kisses his neck. To the night sky he says, “You know. With the circles overlapping.”

“Venn diagrams?”

“Yes! Ripper…Ripper stop a moment.”

Pausing to run a hand through Ethan’s hair, Ripper comments, “Wish you’d let your hair grow.”

“That’d look cute” Jenny says from shop window. Unwilling to miss a chance to impress, Ripper had smashed the window on arrival and now Jenny and Joyce are standing amid the mannequins, helping themselves. She strikes a pose. “How’s this look?”

“Alright” Ripper manages to inject a heady dose of flirtation into the word, looking her up and down. Ethan scowls, reaches out to turn Ripper’s face back towards him. “Ripper! I’m trying to tell you something important!”

“Go on then”

“You realise on the…What was it?”

“Venn diagrams” says Stephen.

“Yes. On the Venn diagrams of times you’ve wanted to fuck me in public and times it’s been safe to fuck me in public, this is the only time on the overlap?”

Ripper, somewhat drink-addled, frowns as he attempts to follow. “You’re saying I should fuck you in public?”

“I’m saying it’s safe to. Look around: no vampires, no cops.”

Ripper glances round, grins, and returns his attention to Ethan’s hair, sliding his hand through it to grasp at a tuft. “Look at this! I liked it long.”

“Maybe I should grow it” Ethan concedes. “Maybe I should dye it.” Struck by the idea, he eases Ripper off him to address the group. “Maybe we should all go back to ours and dye our hair?”

Ripper shakes his head, pulling him back into an embrace. “Stop being a bloody girl.”

“Hey!” Jenny half in, half out of a jacket, pauses to glare at him.

Ripper shrugs. “I’m not sitting around while you lot turn your hair purple or whatever this git decides to go with!”

“We could get tattoos” suggests Joyce. She lifts a hat onto her head, then thinks better of it and leans over to toss it over Ripper’s.

Ripper smiles as the hat settles and tells them, “Got some tats already.” He flexes his arms, causing Ethan, encased in his grasp, to twitch. Uncurling his arm, Ripper shows them the mark of Eyghon.

“I’ve got one too” Jenny tells them while Joyce admires Ripper’s arm. “A protection symbol on one shoulder.”

“I’d love one” Joyce muses. “Wouldn’t you, Stephen?”

“Hm? No”

Hopping down from the window, Jenny asks him, “What have you got there?”

“A Tamagotchi. Took it off a student.”

“Oh aren’t you tough?” jeers Ripper, pushing off the wall and releasing Ethan. “Got yourself a little robot pet?”

“Oh leave him alone.” Jenny slides down beside Stephen. “It’s cute.”

“God, you two are square.” Ripper looks to Ethan and Joyce. “So what’re we doing now?”

“Fucking” says Ethan. “Or possibly summoning something.”

“Sod that” Ripper declares. “I’m not inviting something in to mess you up.” He moves closer. “Can do that myself if that’s what you’re into.”

Ethan giggles, leaning back against the brick work. Joyce, looking from their passionate embrace to Jenny and Stephen’s nerdy huddle, sighs and stares around before clambering back into the shop.

She freezes on command when the cop appears.

*****

“…just glad it’s over” says Buffy, approaching the steps to the courtyard. Sprawled by the fountain, Ethan lifts his head. Just beyond his field of vision, Buffy adds “Now we can finally check Giles got home okay.”

“I’m gonna go with yes” says Faith, apparently commenting on the music blaring from the open doorway to the flat.

“But still” Willow’s voice adds, “We should go check on them” Ethan shifts himself into a seated position just as they come into view and freeze at the sight of him. “Hello all. Everything sorted is it?”

“Where are your clothes?” Buffy manages.

Ethan looks down at himself. “I’m not sure. I could have sworn I had them on a moment ago.”

Buffy hurries over as if to grab his shoulder but thinks better of it at the last moment and settles for a shooing motion. “Get inside before your neighbours see you!”

“Our neighbours are in there.” Ethan gestures to his flat. “We’re having a party.” He smiles at his favourite person in the group. “Hello, Willow.”

“Hi Ethan. Band candy still working then?”

“Seems to be.”

“Yeah and you’re high as kite” Faith laughs.

“And covered in…” Buffy stares at Ethan’s bare chest. “Is that blood!?”

“I summoned a Jisek ghoul” Ethan explains. “Oh, and we tattooed your mum.”

“Oh my God!” Buffy hurries inside.

Faith has stopped laughing. “You hurt Joyce?”

“What? No. Well, a bit, but she asked us to.”

“Oh. That’s okay then.” Faith steps over and hauls Ethan to his feet. He wobbles and catches himself against Willow, who looks disapproving but supports him inside.

In the flat, Buffy has already turned the music off and the lights on, leaving the handful of remaining partygoers blinking in her wake.

“Woah” says Faith, stopping in the doorway. “This was more half naked grown-ups than I wanted to see.”

Buffy stares around at eight or so strangers present, a mix of people who arrived after the summoning and those not scared away by it. Most are on the floor, and most are semi-clad. Actually, between lounging people, empty bottles, strewn records, discarded clothing, broken furniture and ghoul remains, very little floor space is visible. Over by the bookshelf, a couple hastily separate.

Realising her mother isn’t present, Buffy heads up the stairs, calling out, “Mom? Mom!” A commotion is heard, and then a second couple hurry down the stairs and out the door. Around the room, the illumination and lack of music is registering and a few people start to shift, staggering to their feet with muttered complaints. Ethan scowls at Willow. “You lot really know how ruin a party, don’t you?”

Faith steps aside to let a group leave. “Am I the only person freaked about the naked grown-ups? I did not want to see that!” 

“The foreshadowing was kind of enough for me” Willow agrees. “No offence, Ethan.”

“Well, offence taken” Ethan detaches himself from the girl and staggers to the counter, leans against it. “I’ll have you know wars have been fought over this body. Well sort of. Battles, at least.”

“What he means” Ripper adds, stepping in through the open door, “is I got into a fight with some bloke in Islington.”

“Over my honour” says Ethan. To Willow he adds, “It was very romantic.”

At that moment, Buffy heads back down the stairs. “Mom?...Giles! – where’s your shirt? – You know what, never mind – Have you seen my mom?”

Before Ripper can answer, a second man appears behind him with a cry of, “Hey you guys! Where’d the party go?”

Buffy stares. “Principal Snyder?!”

“Call me Snyder: just a last name, like Barbarino.”

“Whatever” Faith replies. “Was Joyce out there with you guys?”

Ripper shrugs expansively, plucking a roll up from behind his ear and lighting up. “I dunno; I’m not her bloody keeper, am I?”

Sensing Faith tense, Ethan adds, “She might be in the car” 

“Right” Buffy hurries out the flat.

Willow asks, “Giles, do you know where your shirt is?”

“Probably round here somewhere.”

Ethan shakes his head despairingly and gestures to Ripper’s chest. “Willow, why’d you want to cover that?”

“I’m not complaining” Willow argues, “I just don’t want you guys to get cold.”

“She’s got a point Ripper. We’d better keep each other warm.” Ethan steps towards Ripper, who pulls him closer. Around them the last few partygoers gather their clothing and head out the door. They stagger off into the night, one of them pausing to be sick in the fountain and another briefly attempting to climb the side of the building. As they leave the courtyard Snyder follows with a cry of, “Hey gang, wait up!”

Watching them leave dispassionately, Ripper tosses a bundle in the general direction of the newcomers. “Here; you two need to catch up.”

Catching the clump of material, Faith unwraps it and grins. “G-man, this is generous!”

“It’s not weed.”

“Oh. So…it’s some leaves? I’ll pass, thanks.”

“It’s Gwenna’s Balm” Ethan explains. At Faith’s blank look he adds, “Magic herb. All high, no low.”

“Sounds good.”

“And completely dangerous!” Willow grabs the bundle. “I’ve read about this stuff.”

Faith rolls her eyes. “No need to freak, Will; I can try it if I want.”

“Not if you want to keep your risk of a fatal nosebleed at zero.” Willow turns to Giles. “And what’s this I hear about you letting him summon a ghoul?”

“Not like I can stop him when he’s being a prat.” Ripper shrugs, then indicates the mess on the floor. “It was only a Jisek.”

“Ripper killed it” Ethan adds unnecessarily.

Buffy bursts back in, dragging someone behind her. Willow hurries over, “Dr Gregory?”

“Hello, Willow” Stephen pulls something from a pocket. “Would you like a Tamagotchi?”

“At least he’s fully clothed” Buffy mutters. She deposits the science teacher on the sofa. “Too busy _talking about the meaning of life with a vampire_ to join in the orgy I guess” She freezes for a moment before turning to Ripper. “Tell me there wasn’t an orgy.”

“There wasn’t an orgy; everyone was too much of a wuss.”

“You didn’t stake the vampire, did you?” Ethan asks. “That was my mate Marvin.”

“I didn’t stake him – he ran off because even vampires are being weird tonight. I thought they were supposed to stay in while all this was happening?”

“Yes, but we called in to Willy’s Place to tell them about the party.”

Buffy rounds on Ripper. “You took my mom to Willy’s Place?!”

“She can go where she sodding likes.”

“Oh God” Buffy runs her hands through her hair. “Tell me you’ve seen her since you left!”

“Course I’ve seen her since we left – Ethan tattooed her.”

“You helped” Ethan reminds him, aware that the slayer is looking rather annoyed and wanting to share the blame with someone who looks sexy while fighting to protect him.

“Then where is she?” Not waiting for Ripper’s reply, Buffy marches to the bathroom, the one place she hasn’t looked. “Mom!” She flings open the bathroom door.

The resulting shrieks fill the flat. Buffy reappears, steering her mother, who is pressing a clump of tissues to her shoulder. Jenny, more tissues in hand, trails them.

“Let me see” Buffy prises Joyce’s hand away. “Oh my God!”

“What is it?” asks Faith, coming over for a better look. Taking in the tattoo she says, “Wow, cool.” 

“Thank you Faith” Joyce beams at the girl.

“It’s not cool” squeaks Buffy, “it’s a demon!”

“It is?” Faith frowns “Huh. I thought it was naked guy.”

“It’s ambiguous” Ethan tells them proudly.

“You just bollocksed it up, you mean” mutters Ripper.

Joyce pulls away from Buffy’s grip and covers her tattoo with the compress again. “Well I like it!”

“I got one too” Jenny lifts her top to show Faith a flowering skull design.

“Now that’s my kinda thing!” Faith declares. “Without the flowers maybe. Ethan, can you do me?”

“No he cannot ‘do’ you!” snaps Buffy. “You need to take Miss Calendar and Dr Gregory home.”

From the sofa Stephen says, “Don’t worry about me; I can sleep here.”

“No-one’s sleeping!” Ripper groans. “The night’s still young: The three of you should sit down and try some Gwenna’s Balm.”

Willow folds her arms. “It’s three a.m., Giles, and we have midterms tomorrow.”

Buffy narrows her eyes at Stephen. “You didn’t get a tattoo, did you?”

“No” Ripper answers for him. “Too much of chicken.”

Stephen tells him, “Chickens are actually highly aggressive birds” and Ripper makes clucking noises at him. Buffy’s eyes swerve heavenwards. “Giles: Enough! Faith – can you take them now?”

“It’s okay” Stephen stands up. “I’m going! I’ve got work tomorrow!” He heads out the door in a strop. Buffy asks, “Is the candy wearing off or has he always been mature?”

“He was born old” mutters Ethan. “I don’t feel mature yet.”

“Do you ever?” retorts Buffy.

Beside her, Faith takes Jenny’s arm. “Come on, Miss C. We’ll go catch Dr Greg up and put some antiseptic on that skull.”

Shrugging, Jenny allows herself to be led out. Buffy turns to Willow. “Will, can you put Giles and Ethan to bed? I need to get my mom home.”

Behind her, Ripper stubs his smoke out on the kitchen counter and folds his arms. “We don’t need sodding putting to bed!”

“We’re going to the Bronze!” adds Ethan.

“The Bronze is closed” Buffy tells them. “It’s three a.m.!”

Looking doubtfully at the two men, Willow says, “I’ll try. The candy’s got to wear off soon.” In a sterner voice, she adds, “And I’ve got midterms tomorrow, so the two of you had better get upstairs right now!” To Buffy she says, “I’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Will” Buffy reaches for Joyce and heads out the door. Joyce’s protests trail off as they leave the courtyard.

Turning to Willow, Ripper jeers, “So you think you can get us both into bed, luv?”

“I think so” Willow clicks her fingers. “Somnum.”

*****

The shrieking alarm is a sledgehammer in Giles’ ear. Groaning, he reaches out to thump the bedside table a few times before realising that what he is hitting is in fact the floor. Which he is lying on. He lifts his head. What on earth is he doing on the living room floor? 

Most of the contents of the flat is, in fact, on the floor, including Ethan, who is pressed against Giles’ side. Someone has done them the kindness of dragging their duvet and pillows down the stairs, and tucking them in. Willow? Giles vaguely remembers Willow being here. “Eth? What’s going on?”

Ethan murmurs in his sleep and rolls over.

Locating the alarm clock on the kitchen counter, Giles gets to his feet and shambles over to turn it off. As he does, memories from the night before flood his mind. “Oh buggeration!”

From the floor, a thin giggle answers him. Ethan rolls on to his back. “Yes, buggeration indeed!” At Giles’ horrified expression, Ethan adds, “Morning, Ripper.”

Giles scowls. “It’s Rupert.”

“Not last night it wasn’t.”

“Well this isn’t last night. Oh, good Lord what did we get up to?”

“Let’s see” Despite looking more than a little hungover, Ethan smiles gamely and makes a show of thinking back over last night’s events. “You called Willow luv.”

Giles groans.

“And you smashed a shop window and fucked me over a police car bonnet.”

“Oh Gods!”

“And we spent all night puffing Gwenna’s Balm.”

“We what?”

“And drinking Kahlua.”

“No wonder I feel like hell” Giles mutters miserably. He surveys the flat. The place is carnage. “I am never letting you do that again!”

“What did I do?!”

“Aside from summoning a ghoul, tattooing Buffy’s mother and dancing naked in front of half the town?” At Ethan’s unconcerned expression, Giles spells it out for him: “Need I remind you the band candy was your idea?”

Ethan grins. “And it was an excellent one, wasn’t it?”

“No it bloody was not!”

“The babies were saved, weren’t they?” Ethan frowns. “Weren’t they?”

“I assume so” replies Giles, chastised. “Buffy would have been distraught otherwise.” He adds, “We didn’t ask.”

“Well we were little tossers as teens.” Ethan closes his eyes again. “But a fun time was had. And plenty of Chaos.”

“I’m not sure I can show my face at work.” Giles tells him, exploring his memories again.

“Phone in sick.” Ethan opens his eyes to gaze critically at Giles. “You look it.”

“It’s just a hangover.” Giles sighs and rubs his face again. “I take it the shop will be closed?”

“Yes. See you later.” Ethan closes his eyes again. Opens them when Giles dumps a broom and a bin liner beside him. “What?”

“If you’re staying at home, you’re cleaning this mess up.”

*****

Returning home as early as he possibly can, Giles finds Ethan still looking a little worse for wear in their now remarkably clean living room. Apparently he has decided hair of the dog is the best cure for his hangover, and has a glass of scotch in hand. He greets Giles with, “How was it?”

“Barely bearable” Giles eases himself onto the sofa.

“Buffy talking to you?”

“Yes. I explained that we were all under some duress to eat the damn things.” He frowns and adds, “From the mayor’s office actually: I just remembered.”

“What’s that?”

“The mayor’s office paid for the candy.”

“Oh”

“Did Trick mention them?”

“No” Ethan frowns. “He did want the authorities distracted though, not just the slayers. I just thought that was for the ritual but perhaps not.”

“I’ll have to tell Buffy. If someone over there is paying tributes to demons it…”

“Would explain a lot about this town?”

“Precisely. I’ll call her in a moment.” Giles studies Ethan for a moment. “How about you – how do you feel?”

“Like an old, old man who can’t handle an all nighter anymore.” Ethan offers a wan smile. “We’re going to have to do that again, you know.”

“No, we’re not.” Giles sighs. “Oh, Jenny has decided to keep the tattoo by the way.”

“Good. I was rather pleased with that one.”

“But Joyce wants hers removed; I imagine you’ll be getting a phone call later.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Fine” Leaning over to the coffee table, he picks up the scotch. “You want some?”

“It’s a little early.”

“It’ll help.”

“Oh, go on then, just this once.” Giles notices for the first time the upmarket brand and vintage of the drink. “Did you get this today?”

“Yes – thought we should celebrate a decent hex.”

“I’d rather celebrate the babies not being eaten.”

“Well that too.”

Giles accepts his drink and savours his first sip. “This is pushing the boat out a bit, isn’t it?”

“Think of it as a gift from Trick.” At Giles’ raised eyebrows, Ethan adds, “Well I made him pay me before I left the warehouse. Honestly, Rupert, how much of an amateur do you think I am?”


	45. Revelations

Stepping through the door to their flat, Ethan is greeted with, “Eth, have you heard anything about the Glove of Myhnegon?”

Ethan pauses in peeling off his coat. “Ought I to have?” He looks expectantly at the stranger seated at their kitchen counter. Rupert adds, “This is Gwendolyn Post, Faith’s new watcher.”

“Ah” Poor Faith. But it is not entirely surprising that the council would send someone good and stuffy to oversee the second slayer.

Turning to the newcomer, Rupert says, “This is my partner, Ethan Rayne.”

Said good, stuffy watcher eyes Ethan with a superior expression. “Ah, yes, the chaos mage.”

Not liking her tone, Ethan replies, “My reputation proceeds me, does it? I like to think I’ve done Janus some small service over the years, yes.”

“You know, I’ve always heard there was some controversy at HQ about allowing a watcher to court a chaos worshiper…”

“They don’t exactly allow –” Rupert begins.

“…but given Janus doesn’t have the power of the other dark gods, I can’t see the harm in it.”

A few images of Gwendolyn Post being turned into various small rodents flash through Ethan’s mind, and he’s not entirely sure the thoughts are his own. Given Rupert will be livid if he acts on any of them, he is aware a lengthy and heartfelt atonement ritual will be required: Janus, like most gods, is yet to catch on to the concept of letting things slide.

Eyes on the book in his hand, Rupert looks miserable. Post smiles thinly. Asks, “What about the demon Lagos? Drinking buddy of yours, is he?”

“No” Another flash in Ethan’s mind, this time of Post bleeding from the eyes. This is a little much, so Ethan smiles and says, “Excuse me – I left something at the shop.” Before Rupert can stall him, he steps back out, coatless, into the night.

And straight into Jenny Calendar. “Oh, sorry.” They step apart. Jenny says, “Hi”

“Evening, Jenny”

“Is Rupert in?”

“Yes, but he’s with a colleague” Ethan injects venom into the word.

“Oh, the lovely Mrs Post”

“You’ve had the pleasure?”

Jenny forces a smile. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard all about her opinions on techno-pagans. Apparently we just want attention.” Her smile fading, she adds, “Do you think you could get him out here on his own? It’s about Angel.”

The already limited humour drains from the situation. Ethan manages, “He’s still mopey and pathetic, isn’t he? Tell me you didn’t see him smile.”

“Relax, Ethan, he still has his soul.” Jenny looks down at the concreate. “At the moment.”

Oh shit. Shit, shit.

An image flashes in Ethan’s mind of Post being fed on by Angelus and he pushes it away: Not now, Janus.

Jenny is stepping around him and Ethan shoots a hand out to stall her. “Wait a moment – I don’t think we should disturb them.”

She looks annoyed but allows herself to be led away. Ethan adds, “Whatever it is, I’m sure I can help.” Sounds like poor Rupert has had a bad enough day already without, say, being reminded of that time he was tortured for hours. “What happened?”

“I went over to his just now to catch up, and I saw him through the window kissing Buffy. They were pretty into it.”

Ethan’s breath hisses inwards. “I’ll kill her.” At Jenny’s look he adds, “Okay, perhaps not the most tactful thing I’ve ever said.”

“I was thinking a lighter approach?”

“Fine. Is she still over there, do you think? Should we confront them together? Chuck a bucket of cold water over them if things have gotten past the talking stage?”

“I’ll talk to Angel later. For now, we’ll have a word with Buffy.”

“You want me to page her and get her to the shop?”

“Alright.” Jenny glances back at the house. “Are you sure leaving Rupert out of this is a good idea? He is her watcher.”

“He’s got enough to worry about.”

“I suppose we can see how Buffy reacts. Take it from there.”

*****

Buffy strolls into the Magic Box an hour later looking relaxed. “Hi” she greets Jenny and Ethan. Jenny is seated at the table while Ethan is behind the counter, arms folded.

“Hello Buffy” Jenny indicates a chair. “Sit down.”

“Okay” Buffy sits. “This is kinda formal.”

“It won’t take long. I know you’re busy tracking Lagos.”

“Oh, that’s all sorted. I just got done telling the gang – Angel’s got the glove at the mansion.”

“Oh good” replies Jenny, and Ethan adds, “Good if he doesn’t turn on us.”

Buffy stares at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That means imagine what Angelus could do with the Glove of Myhnegon.”

“Well, lucky he’s Angel then.”

“For now”

Jenny says, “I saw the two of you kissing, Buffy.”

Buffy stutters for a moment before managing. “Well then, why isn’t Angel here too? He’s the kissee.”

“So you started it?”

“Is that really the point?”

Jenny sighs. “Yes. Because if you kissed him, you’re an accomplished young woman who also happens to be very much drawn to her boyfriend. If he kissed you, he’s a man haunted by what he’s done but still somehow able to push it all aside and kiss you anyway.”

Buffy issues her own sigh and rests her elbows on the table, tucks her hair nervously behind her ears. “It was one kiss” she tells them. “And no-one officially said kissing’s definitely absolutely forbidden.”

Jenny looks more sympathetic than Ethan feels the situation deserves. She explains, “I don’t want to give you a list of bases you’re not allowed to reach…”

“Oh goody” Buffy smiles shakily. “Is this the abstinence talk? ‘No touching in the underpants zone’?”

“…because that would give you the impression only physical love could make him lose his soul” Jenny concludes, ignoring the interruption. “In fact, a moment’s pure happiness might not be caused by sex. It might be caused by feeling accepted and loved through conversation or romance…”

“That’s a fun little curse.” Buffy leans back again, folding her arms tightly.

“…but we can’t ignore the fact it was sex that triggered it last time. Kissing him could be dangerous.”

Buffy’s face is drawn. She reiterates, “It was one time. A mistake.”

Ethan speaks at this: “Just an _oops I followed my hormones and now all my friends are going to be horribly murdered_ sort of mishap?”

Buffy shifts, arms still folded. “He’s fine. The soul’s still in place.” To Jenny she adds, “We don’t need an intervention over one kiss.”

Jenny says, “Maybe it was just one kiss. But what’s it going to lead to?”

“We just…got carried away. Once. You know it’s been months since he was restored and this is the first time we’ve messed up.” Buffy pauses and says in a smaller voice, “Anyway, I don’t think Angel will feel pure happiness ever again now he knows what it would lead to. Happiness feels dangerous to him now.”

Jenny shakes her head. “I think you’re underestimating how exhausting that is. Eventually there’s going to be a temptation to just give in.”

She’s right, Ethan realises with a shudder. No-one can put up with misery and discontent forever. Eventually the scale has to tip into joy. Eventually, that release has to come. And what then?

Buffy tightens her grip on her own arms and mutters, “I forget how pally you two are these days.” Louder, she adds, “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“I don’t think he would deliberately” Jenny agrees.

“So that’s it? Can I go now? I still need to help destroy the glove.” Buffy moves to leave but Ethan asks, “Did you know he wanted to dress one of the costume shop mannequins in my skin? That’s what he threatened, when he got in that time.”

“Don’t” But Buffy stays. She pushes her chair in again and stares at the table.

“That might have just been a colourful threat, of course” Ethan continues. “He likes to paint a picture of what he’s going to do to you, likes to let you dwell on that. That way your imagination does the work for him. At least that’s the impression I get from what little Rupert’s told me.”

He has Buffy’s attention now: she’s still studying the table but her senses her focus. He continues, “A lot of it was talking, holding tools, cutting here and there just so. Tell me, is he into a slow build in other areas too?”

Buffy finally lifts her head to stare at him. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re kissing a man who tortured my fiancé. What do you call that?”

Jenny murmurs, “Ethan, this isn’t helping.”

Buffy argues, “That wasn’t him! He’s not Angelus.”

“No” Ethan concedes. “He just has the same intellect and memories, personality traits, mannerisms, oh and has Angelus wedged permanently in every fibre of his being waiting for you to kiss his jailor just a little harder and let him out.”

“The point” Jenny intercedes hastily, “is that we don’t want Angelus back.”

Buffy replies, “Like I do! You think I’ve forgotten?” She drops her gaze again. “It was one kiss.” Looking up at them, she asks, “Are you going to tell Giles?”

Ethan shakes his head, but Jenny replies, “You should do that yourself.”

Buffy and Ethan mirror one another’s horrified expressions. Ethan tells her, “He doesn’t need to know” at the same time Buffy says, “He’ll hate me!”

Jenny regards them both with some sympathy and replies, “He has a right to know” To Buffy she adds, “And no, he won’t.”

Reluctantly, Ethan offers, “She’s right; he won’t.” The child doesn’t realise what being a watcher means to Rupert, what Buffy has come to mean to him even aside from her calling. Which of course makes this all the worse. 

*****

After some pacing and restless rearranging of stock, Ethan returns home to find that Rupert, being Rupert, has managed to get himself clobbered on the head by the lovely Mrs Post in his absence. It’s bad enough to warrant an ambulance and so it is that when Buffy makes her confession to Rupert the following day, it is in the hospital.

Ethan waits outside. When Buffy leaves, looking serious and not meeting his eyes, he re-enters Rupert’s room to find Rupert, equally serious, peering at the clock. He greets Ethan with, “How long did you say I’ve been here?”

“Not too long” Ethan positions himself to block the view of the clock.

“Well it feels like days. I’ve got work to do.”

“It feels like days because you’re concussed. When you have a vaguely accurate sense of time I’ll consider helping you discharge yourself.”

Rupert scowls at him, looking adorable with his pout and his bed-hair. Ethan smiles sits down on the edge of the bed. Lets the smile slip before asking, “So. How’d that chat with Buffy go?”

“I’m not entirely surprised” Rupert admits.

“You’re not?”

“No. She was bound to realise eventually that the two of them can only resist their, um, urges for so long.” Ridiculously, Rupert blushes.

Ethan stares at him. “And you’ve just been waiting for him to let the soul slip all this time?”

“I haven’t been waiting for him to do anything. I’ve been waiting for her to realise that she needs to distance herself from him, and she has.”

“They’re breaking up?” This is better than Ethan had hoped.

“No” replies Rupert. “But they are going to avoid being alone together for a time. A ‘cooling down period’, Buffy called it.”

“Oh. Well that’s something, I suppose.”

“I’m sure it’s heart wrenching for her.”

Ethan simply rolls his eyes, suppressing the instinct to say something sarcastic. Seeing that, Rupert adds, “None of this is her fault, Eth. She didn’t ask to fall in love with him any more than you asked to fall in love me in.”

“That’s different.”

“Different how?”

“You’re Rupert.” Rupert who has never threatened to kill the people in Ethan’s life, Rupert who can feel pure unadulterated joy on occasion without needing to be slain, Rupert who isn’t, in short, a ticking time bomb. Rupert who frankly has a lot more personality than Angel in any case.

Rupert who is watching him with a fondly frustrated expression.

“What?” Ethan asks.

“Nothing. Just that your egocentricity is almost a form of innocence.”

Ethan scoffs “You really are looped right now, aren’t you?”

“Quite possibly.”

“You lie quietly then, and I’ll read to you.”

*****

Keeping Rupert from discharging himself and doing something stupid like go to work with a concussion is a full-time job in itself, so Ethan is late to the shop for Willow’s magic lesson that afternoon. Fortunately, Willow still has her key from taking care of the place in summer, and he arrives to find she has let herself in.

And is upstairs, in the restricted section. “Willow?”

There is a brief scrambling sound and hasty footfalls on the ladder as the girl appears, hopping down beside him, red faced. “Hi, Ethan.”

“Alright?” Ethan eyes her. No bag, and her pockets don’t look deep enough to conceal anything from up there. “What were you doing up there?”

“Just…looking around.”

“Willow.” “I know; sorry. I just…I get interested in stuff.”

“That particular stuff is up there for a reason.”

“I know” Willow squirms guiltily. “I only had a quick look, I swear.”

“At anything in particular?”

“No, n-nothing really. I just…looked.”

“I see” Ethan forces his disapproval to remain visible for a few seconds longer, though it’s hard when Willow looks so ashamed of herself. Still, better to discourage dangerous magic with disapproval than any of the other options.

Finally shifting his expression to neutral he nods to a nearby chair. Willow sits.

Turning to ready the props for this session, Ethan comments. “I thought we could work on transfiguring water today.” He sets two glasses, one filled with water, the other empty, on the table in front of Willow.

She nods, still apparently chastened. But when she speaks it is to say, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask, Ethan, but I think I can try some of the stuff up there now. I think I’m ready.”

Practically speaking, she is. But, “You need to work on some theory first. We could do that today, if you’d rather read.”

“Maybe next time?” Willow smiles. “I want to try the water thing too.”

“Alright. You’re using the same principles we talked about for fire transformation.” Watching Willow focus on the water, Ethan reflects that she must not realise how long he plans to have her focus on bookwork before he gets anything down from the restricted section. She’d argue if she knew and she might have a point; their last few lessons have been restricted by an over-protectiveness on his part. Dull, but her power is ever-growing these days, fast becoming daunting and unwieldy, as though the girl has an invisible conjoined twin who happens to be a tiger. So much it could do and she’s still so young.

Sometimes he wonders if getting away from the hellmouth would do her some good – growing her magic here amid its pernicious energies can’t be having no effect at all. For all anyone knows she might find her magic has an altogether gentler character if she left town for a while.

Well, one more year and she has university, and off she’ll go to Harvard so wherever. How hard can it be to keep her distracted for a year?

Bulbous, the water rises from the glass and hangs, quivering, in mid-air. Willow grins. “I did it!”

“Good” Ethan tells her. “Now shape it.”

Water is reluctant to bend to anyone’s will and a few droplets spray across the table. “Sorry” Willow mutters, biting her lip as she focuses.

“Not to worry” Ethan watches her sculpt an arch that tips itself neatly into the second glass. Her grin widens. Ethan tells her, “Well done. Now try splitting it.”

“Got it” Willow carefully siphons off a few tablespoons of water, letting it float in mid air while the rest stays in the glass.

As with everything else, she is a quick learner in all forms of transfiguration, and by the end of the lesson, Ethan is fairly certain she could shift and reshape whole clouds if she chose to. He lends her a book on weather magic.

“Thanks, Ethan” Willow looks through the new book as Ethan makes them tea. “Hey, how’s Giles?”

“Hopefully home by now. He said he’d get a taxi if they let him go early.”

“That’s good. Did you guys find out about Mrs Post? Cause I’m thinking not a real watcher.”

“Actually, she was once.” Ethan sets the tea down. “But she was chucked out for experimenting with dark magic.” If he were Rupert, he’d let an implicit warning linger in his tone, but he’s done with disapproval for today. Besides, Willow isn’t about to seek out anything like the Glove of Myhnegon. 

“Well at least Giles and Faith are both okay.” Willow pours the tea as Ethan takes a seat. He asks, “Faith?”

“Mrs Post made with the mind games” Willow explains. “What with pretending to be all nice and new watchery and then turning out to be evil. Buffy’s taking her out tomorrow to cheer her up. I kind of think she wants to distract herself too what with the whole avoiding Angel thing she’s doing.”

“Heard about that, did you?”

“Rants may have been had. In which you might have had cameos.” Willow offers a disapproving glance of her own but knows better than to say more. Ethan shrugs and comments, “Yes, well. I’m still of the opinion that Angel could do with getting out in the sun more. Looking a little pale, the poor boy.”

“Ethan” Willow reprimands him half-heartedly.

“Willow?”

“It’s not their fault.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“They just need help, they need someone to…” Willow lets her gaze drop into her cup, burying whatever she was going to say as she drinks deeply.

Ethan rolls his eyes extravagantly. “Willow. We’ve been through this.”

“I know. I know we have. It’s just…Buffy’s so sad.”

“She’s better off without him in the long run”

“What, and you just get to decide that for her? Some curse from a hundred years ago decides that for her?”

“Well it’s better than no curse. Which is what you get if you try to tamper with it.” A thought occurring, Ethan glances up at the restricted section. “What exactly were you looking at up there?”

“Nothing” says Willow with a sincerity she couldn’t fake. “I just looked at a few artefacts but I didn’t touch them; I didn’t think it would be safe.”

“You were right about that.” Ethan offers her a few more weather-magic books before she leaves: the more distraction from the bloody curse the better.


	46. Lovers Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 3 episode 8, Lovers Walk, written by Dan Vebber.

“So you’re leaving me?” Ethan asks.

Giles glances up from amid his camping gear. “What?”

Ethan inclines his head towards the half-completed packing. “Clearly you intend to start a new civilisation out there.”

“I’m only taking what I need” Giles tells him. “May I remind you how much we needed to buy in Cuba because you hadn’t thought ahead?”

Ethan shrugs. “At least we didn’t need to carry it all around. If something attacks you out there…”

Giles holds up a crossbow. “I’ve packed weapons.”

“So your plan is to tell the demon to wait a moment and fish that out from among the saucepans and reference books? Or I suppose you could just swing the whole bag at it.”

“I’m camping, Ethan; I need supplies.”

“Suit yourself.” Ethan folds his arms defensively and Giles pauses his packing to pull him into a one armed hug. “You could still come along. I’m sure Peterson wouldn’t mind.” Sebastian Peterson, who graduated from the academy a few years ahead of Giles, is taking a break from his research into North American demon sub-species to join him on the retreat.

“Peterson wouldn’t know what to do with himself if we were bonking in the tent next to his” Ethan gripes.

“But he wouldn’t say anything. And since when do you care what Peterson thinks?”

“I don’t; I care what you think. Really, you want me to stay here so it isn’t awkward.”

Giles sighs. “Ethan, you know that’s not true. I’ve gone out of my way to get you invited to Council gatherings back home and half the time you’ve repaid me by disgracing yourself.” 

“I have not!” Ethan wriggles out of his embrace and sits down amid the luggage, a little like a cat who hopes to be accidently packed and brought along.

“You know you have” Giles murmurs, returning his attention to deciding how to safely and discretely carry the crossbow. “But you’re still welcome to come.”

Ethan shakes his head. “No. You don’t want me there.”

“Not if you’re going to behave like this, no” replies Giles and Ethan gives him a hurt look. Giles adds, “I know what you’re doing, Ethan: You don’t really want to come, you hate camping, but you want me to feel guilty so I’ll lavish affection on you when I get back.”

“Is it working?”

Sighing again, Giles sits and wraps an arm around him. “If you want affection you can just ask for it.”

“This way’s more fun.”

“Right” Giles lets go and turns back to packing. “You take care while I’m gone, won’t you? Remember I’m less than an hour away if there’s an emergency.”

“I’m sure we can cope without you for a couple of days, love.”

*****

Hearing noises toward the back of the shop, Ethan investigates and finds William the Bloody of all people, reeking of booze and clumsily searching through his merchandise. “I need a curse” he tells Ethan, barely sparing him a glance. “Something nasty. Boils. I wanna give him boils, all over his face, dripping pustules, let’s really go for gusto here.”

“Well” Ethan tells him, “I’m sure I’ve got something suitable for, um…?” It would never do to sell a curse that’s going to be aimed at Rupert, and this is a vampire with a grudge against Buffy after all. And, really, selling curses aimed at any human won’t win him any favours with his partner. Then again, this is Spike. If it’s a human he wants to hurt, he’d probably just kill them.

Spike, meanwhile, is flipping through the pages of a book on minor hexes and adds, “Leprosy. I want a spell that makes his parts fall off. That sounds proper.”

“I don’t carry leprosy” Ethan tells him. “Not after what happened last time.” Cautiously, he steps closer to Spike. The vampire is definitely drunk and doesn’t seem to have any intention of attacking, focused as he is on the spell ingredients. Aware this might not end well, Ethan tries, “So, curses aside, how’re things?”

“Rubbish.” Spike chucks the book aside, knocking over a box of dried herbs. “Crap. Drusilla left me. Bloody bitch decided she preferred chaos demons. I mean, have you ever _seen_ a chaos demon?”

“Well believe it or not, worshiping Chaos does tend to lead to being acquainted with a few.”

“Ever shagged one?”

“Only the one.”

Spike rips open a parcel from this morning’s delivery. “Good lay?”

Ethan shrugs. “Good enough.”

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be as good as me. I mean, who does the bitch think she is, breaking up with me? She can’t be attracted to him, she’s just doing this to spite me!”

“So you want to give him leprosy.” Ethan actually has a wart-causing curse that might please the vampire, but he doubts cursing chaos demons is strictly kosher in the Chaos worshiping sense.

“What? No, I want to give Angel leprosy! Or turn him into a dung beetle or something.”

“Oh. Well, I do have a wart curse somewhere…” Ethan goes over to the opposite shelf.

At the front of the shop, the bell over the door clatters. Ethan tells Spike, “Wait here” and heads to the counter. Hopefully this customer will leave quickly, before the vampire gets hungry. This isn’t like having Marvin or anyone from Willy’s Place sozzled and pissed off in his back room after all; Spike is dangerous even for a vampire.  

Willow is standing next to the display of special offers. Bugger. Ethan seriously considers telling her to leave but Spike might hear and think he was sending her to get the slayer, and kill him. Ethan’s really not in the mood to be killed. Nor is he in the mood to be forced out of his own shop, so leaving with Willow isn’t an option either.

Willow’s still studying the display. “Are these summoning spells, Ethan? Because that seems kind of dark magicy for someone who won’t let me in the restricted section.”

“There’s worse than summoning spells in the restricted section” Ethan mutters. He heads behind the counter where the emergency holy water is in easy reach, rearranges the special offers next to the till in an effort to look busy.

“But still – from what I’ve read about they are not of the fun.”

“Well, technically, none of those actually work.” Ethan opens the till hoping she’ll think he’s closing up early and take the hint to go. 

“Isn’t that false advertising?” She picks up a vial of succubus blood.

“It would be if I claimed they did. Do you see it written anywhere that they work?”

“No, but, won’t people assume they do?”

“That’s the idea” Ethan shuts the till. “Look, Willow –”

“Is this blood?”

“Succubus blood” Ethan pauses expecting the girl to be unnerved, and hoping being unnerved will at least make her leave. But she’s simply turning the vial over in her hands, curious. He tells her, “It makes a pretty good aphrodisiac.”

Willow looks alarmed and puts the vial back. “Oh. Well, err, I kinda need the opposite. A delusting spell.”

Ethan frowns, forgetting about his other customer for the time being. “Oz isn’t putting any pressure on you is he? Because I could talk to him or –”

“No, no, Oz wouldn’t do that.”

“Someone else then?”

“Well, sorta. But. Look, Ethan, can we not talk about this?”

“Alright” Ethan agrees reluctantly. “But if someone’s –”

“No, there’s no someone. Well there’s…I’ve got a spell, I just need a few ingredients.”

“What ingredients?” Ethan darts out from behind the counter. The last thing he needs is for her to start browsing and run into Spike.

“Oh. Rose thorn and canary feathers.”

“Raven will do better, if it’s an anti-love spell.” Ethan opens a drawer under a display case and hands them over, takes rose thorn from a box on the nearest shelf. “You know, technically I should warn you against using magic for a problem like this. That’ll be twelve dollars, with your discount.”

“Thanks” Willow breezes out, and Ethan decides that, whatever’s going on, it isn’t urgent. He heads back to the vampire lurking at the back of the building. “Sorry about that. We were talking curs –” He takes a sharp step backward, because Spike has his fangs out.

“Forget the curses. I just got a better idea.” Spike lunges. Ethan leaps away from the attack and grabs a vial of holy water, hurls it. Spike is enraged but leaves quickly enough.

Ethan is left breathing hard, leaning heavily against the counter. Bloody vampires. That’s them all over: one moment you’re having a polite, constructive conversation and the next moment you’re on the menu. A good thing he’d learnt the lessons from when Angelus got in and had holy water to hand. Shaking his head at that thought, Ethan decides he will close up early after all. But not before he calls Buffy.

*****

Closing the shop early gives him the afternoon off so Ethan is well established on the sofa with a good book and a take away by the time the children crash through the door that evening.

“We need a location spell” Buffy tells him without preamble.

“Have you heard of knocking?” Ethan retorts. “Because –”

“Ethan” Buffy holds up a hand. “Willow and Xander are missing.”

Behind her, Oz adds, “We think Spike took them.”

“Oh crap” Ethan is on his feet before he can think, searching the desk drawers for a map.

“They’re probably at the factory” Buffy adds. “But if I’m wrong, I don’t want to waste time in case –”

“Don’t” cuts in Cordelia.

“Sorry” Buffy heads to the kitchen counter. “I need to call Faith.”

Ethan gives his attention over to the location spell, spreading the map over the dining room table and sitting down before it, palms flat against the paper. Oz watches him intently and Cordelia paces. Dialling her home number, Buffy taps her fingers against the kitchen counter until someone answers. “Mom? It’s me. I need to talk to Faith.”

Amid the growing swell of magic, Ethan is aware of Buffy’s growing agitation. In the corner of his vision, Cordelia stops pacing when Buffy starts, moving as much as the phone cord allows. Into the phone she says, “Mom, wait, describe him” and then, “That’s him. Tell me she staked him” and, finally, “Wait, what?”

Magic hums and flows across the map, snagging Ethan’s attention. “There” A light glows in one corner.

“The factory” murmurs Oz.

“Oh God” Cordelia exclaims. “It really is Spike – he’s probably eating them right now!”

“They wouldn’t show up on the map if they were dead” Ethan assures her. Or at least, not if both of them are. He stands up and grabs his coat.

“So he’s keeping them alive to hurt them?” Cordelia asks, wide-eyed.

Before Ethan can respond, Buffy says, “Thanks, Faith” into the phone and puts it down, turning round with, “Don’t worry, Cordy: Spike’s over at mine. Faith’s going to deal with him. Or failing that, tie him up so I can” She heads over to Rupert’s weapons chest and selects an axe. “Which I hope is what happens because I really want it to be me.”

“He’s not tied up already?” asks Cordelia. Oz adds, “Is your mom okay?”

“She’s fine” Buffy tells him, and to Cordelia she adds, “Mom and Faith were drinking hot chocolate with him on the porch. Because my life isn’t weird enough already I guess.”

“What?” Cordelia gapes. “Why’d they…wait, you know what, I don’t even want to know.”

Buffy nods grimly. “Right there with you.” Oz’s eyebrow quirks but he makes no comment beyond, “Let’s get to the van.”

*****

“Hi” Willow arrives in the Magic Box the next day with reddened eyes in shadow laden sockets.  

“Hello” Ethan stands to make tea.

“I just spoke to Xander. Cordelia’s going to be okay. He’s visiting today.”

“Good”

Willow sits down heavily. “And I saw Buffy too. Spike got away.”

“How’d he manage that?”

“I think he realised who Joyce was on the phone to when she called Faith in. Snuck off. Well, staggered off anyway.”

“Oh well. At least Joyce and Faith are alright then.” Ethan offers tea and Willow accepts, taking a few perfunctory sips. “Yeah” she agrees. “Buffy was kinda mad at Faith but she only didn’t kill him ’cause he said he had me and Xander hidden somewhere. And then Joyce made hot chocolate before she could explain so they were all on the porch drinking it while unloaded about Drusilla and this chaos demon.” Willow wraps her hands around her mug. “I don’t think he’ll stick around. It was just a big relationship drama.” Another sip. “Not that I can judge.”

Ethan sips his own tea. “I’ve got to admit I’m surprised. I thought you were over Xander.”

“So did I for a while. But it just happened. He’s Xander, you know? There’s history there.” Willow’s face crumples. “Oh God, Ethan, I’ve really screwed up.”

Rising, Ethan goes over and pats her shoulder. “There, there. People screw up all the time.”

“Not exactly comforting.” Willow wipes her eyes on the back of her hand.

“Sorry. Not really known for my comforting ability.” Where’s Rupert when you need him?

Ethan sits down again. Studying her tearful face, he asks, “You’re alright apart from that, aren’t you? He didn’t hurt you?”

“No. There was a major drunken-guy-with-a-broken-bottle vibe but he backed off when I got stern.”

Ethan winces, sympathy flowing more naturally with that description. Willow is quiet for a moment, focusing on her drink, but then she asks, “Hey, Ethan, could we do a spell?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” Ethan tells her. “Your emotions are all over the place.”

“That’s why I want to do a spell.”

Ethan frowns. “To steady yourself?”

“To numb myself. I just can’t take feeling like this.”

Ethan shakes his head. “Sorry, sweet thing. You numb yourself and you don’t just lose the sorrow, you lose the joy. Everything goes grey.” Besides, it is hardly chaotic.

Or healthy really.

“What joy?” Willow huffs. “Believe me, there’s no joy going on right now.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to rely on magic to control your mood.”

“Not even on school days? I’m not going to be able to concentrate.”

“Sorry.”

Willow studies him a moment. “So…what, magic is fine for fun things but when I really need help you say _sorry, can’t help_?”

“No, when you want to hurt yourself with magic I say _sorry can’t help_. Magic isn’t about controlling your life, Willow.”

Willow stands abruptly. “Then what’s the point of it?”

Before Ethan can reply she leaves, the air tingling in her wake.


	47. The Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 3 episode 9, The Wish, written by Marti Noxon.

The slayer paces about Giles’ house restlessly, like an animal more accustomed to roaming. Giles watches her, fascinated. This could have been _his_ slayer, after all. It distracts him a little from his research but not too much. Training is well ingrained and he wants her to see him as at least a passably useful watcher, even if she doesn’t stay long.

He just prays she’ll be useful in return before she vanishes back to Cleveland. As she passes the desk she lets her hand trail over the stationary and books, but her fingers snag on the photo of Ethan, curl around the frame.

“That’s Ethan” Giles tells her, though there was no question. She stares at him, her blank expression hiding something more human. Partly Giles just wants to say the name out loud, so he does it again. “Ethan was my partner. My, err, my fiancé.”

She puts the photo down carefully. “Was?” That masking again, the casual tone covering vulnerability. She’s lost people too; she must have done.

“He died saving me from a demon that emerged from the hellmouth when the master rose. He was a, a powerful sorcerer. But even he couldn’t survive continuing a spell of that magnitude for so long.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is flat, formal. She folds her arms.

“I, err. Thank you.” Giles looks down quickly at his book. He doesn’t tell her how he’d cursed her for not being there. It’s hardly her fault. Nor does he share any more of his pain: that time he took drank himself almost to oblivion, for instance, and took a walk near the Bronze, more to punish himself for bringing Ethan here than wanting to die. Or the fact that there has been so much to do since the master rose that he hasn’t really had time to grieve. Sometimes he can’t quite believe Ethan is really dead. It doesn’t feel real.

It doesn’t feel real. Perhaps it isn’t.

That’s the thing to hold on to.

*****

“Fool!” Anyanka hisses. “How can you be sure the other world is any better?”

“Because it has to be!”

Giles smashes the amulet. A flash of light.

He finds he’s lost his train of thought and looks down at the book in his hand. The silence of the library is disturbed by the door opening and closing. Giles looks up. “Ethan”

“Hello Rupert” Ethan holds out a paper bag. “You forgot your lunch so I thought I’d drop by. Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m alright.” Giles smiles. He finds he is inordinately glad to see Ethan, though he isn’t entirely sure why.


	48. Amends

Watching Giles slide a tray of mince pies into the oven, Ethan comes out with, “How about next year we go home for Christmas? I’m still not used to advent in a heat wave.”

“It’s a nice thought” Giles admits. He moves to the sink to tackle the washing up. “But technically, love, you’re a heathen. It’s not your holiday.”

“Oh, Janus is forgiving about these things. Besides, Christmas is a very chaotic time.”

“Certainly when you try to wrap presents it is.”

“So how about it? Christmas next year, we go to London. Even just for a long weekend.”

It seems very unlikely that he’ll get the chance of even that short escape, but in a spirit of optimism Giles replies, “Yes. Barring apocalypses, of course. That would nice.”

“Good” Ethan smiles. “Now how about an aperitif?” He moves to the drinks cabinet. “Masala? Port? Ginger wine, perhaps; it is Christmas.”

“Whatever you like” Stepping out the kitchen, Giles goes over to the front window. Blasted Sunnydale and its ridiculous temperatures – no wonder demons like it so much. Hellmouth aside, this isn’t the weather for humans. Even Ethan, who feels the cold, has been complaining.

Opening the window, Giles registers the influx of warm air and remembers that the air conditioning is on. Ludicrous as it seems to a Brit, it is cooler inside. He shuts it again, moves to close the curtains – and then pauses.

A movement in the courtyard, someone retreating up the stairs. With the lights on inside and Giles not expecting to see anyone, he only gets a brief glimpse. But he’s certain it’s Angel.

Oddly, Giles shivers. Then berates himself because it’s been long enough now, for heaven’s sake. He and Angel have worked side by side since the vampire’s soul was restored. But something about the way Angel was moving is unnerving.

Not to mention, what was he doing here? Why didn’t he knock?

If it was Angel. Perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps one of the neighbours has a visitor. A tall, black-clad visitor with a predatory way of moving.

“Something wrong?” asks Ethan, handing him a glass.

“No, no” Giles knocks back the burning liquid, not registering what it is. “Nothing at all.”

*****

“Where’s Faith?” asks Giles when Buffy arrives alone for their afternoon training session in the library the following day.

“I’m guessing with Dr Gregory in the lab. He’s still convinced he can get her to do the homework thing if he throws in enough tutoring sessions.”

“I’m sure she benefits from the one to one attention” Giles replies, making a mental note to have a word with Stephen about making sure science tuition doesn’t clash with training.

“Ah” says Buffy, “One to one attention – I remember that from before she moved in.” She pauses at the sight of the back dated newspapers spread over the library table. “More mayor stuff?”

“I still don’t know for certain that it’s him Trick’s working for” admits Giles. “It could be someone else high up in his office. But I’m hoping if we go through the accounts of recent deaths in the town where an official cover up may have been involved, we might narrow it down to, um…”

“To just the one evil public servant? Good thinking”

“Not really – it wouldn’t tell us his long term plan.”

“Well we might get a lead at least.”

Giles nods and piles newspapers on top of each other and moves them to the side out of the way of the training area. “I was rather hoping Willow could help me go through them all” he adds. “Is she in yet?”

“She hasn’t been in all day” Buffy frowns. “She didn’t phone the school yet?”

“No” Giles sets the papers aside. “I checked when she wasn’t in this morning, but as she hadn’t called I just assumed she was running late.”

“No” Buffy’s frown deepens. “She’s absent.” She turns and heads to the counter. “I’ll call her.”

“I’m sure her parents would have let the school know if it was anything serious” Giles reassures her.

“Her parents are away” Buffy tells him.

“Ah. But still, I’m sure she’s alright. Remember there are wards on her house. Perhaps she’s just a little under the weather.” A lot of people must be, he reasons, with the weather so oppressively hot.

“Well” Buffy muses, “I did speak to her last night or I’d be majorly wigged right now. But I should still check.” She reaches for the phone. It rings before she can touch it. Exchanging a startled glance with Giles, Buffy lifts the receiver. “Willow? Oh, Angel. Hi.”

Giles folds his arm and leans on the table, waiting. Perhaps the vampire will explain what he was doing outside the flat last night. If indeed it was him.

Into the phone, Buffy is saying, “Angel, wait, what are you…Okay…But, what is it?...What, you can’t give me a little clue?...Okay then, I’ll be over.” Putting the phone down, she turns to Giles. “Giles, I know you’re the school librarian and shouldn’t aid and abet truanting, but how do you feel about aiding and abetting truanting?

*****

Resrunian laughter potions have been in high demand this holiday season and the D’tethlion spawn that produce the ooze needed to make them are hard to come by. Fortunately, Dumitru’s widow – still Ethan’s silent partner in the Magic Box – knows a supplier and so it is that he is collecting a (squealing) package this morning and doesn’t get into the shop until the afternoon.

Entering the shop, he sets the box down on the counter and pauses: What’s different?

The wards are down.

Ethan frowns. Yes, the wards are gone. How?

And, more importantly, is what tore them down still here? Ethan steps softly round the back of the counter and opens a drawer. Pulls a pinch of powdered Flishurl horn from within it and sprinkles it in the air. “Ostendo”

The magic lingers for a second, then fades. Thankfully, no lurking enemies are revealed. Which leaves one question: what did they take? Ethan looks around. Nothing obvious.

The phone rings. Ethan rolls his eyes and picks it up. Not a great time but he may as well answer. “Hello?”

“I thought you’d never get in” A familiar voice – more cheerful than usual – tells him.

Ethan frowns. “Angel?” he asks cautiously.

“Check the basement.” The line goes dead.

Suddenly, Ethan feels very cold in the unseasonal heat. He very much does not want to check the basement. But nonetheless he finds himself stepping towards it. He’ll just open the door and peep in, and then he can run if need be.

The basement door swings slowly open to reveal –

“Willow!” Ethan scrambles down the stairs. “Shit, Willow!”

Crumpled as she is at the bottom of the staircase, it isn’t clear if she is unconscious or dead. She looks like a poor man’s Lavinia, her hands bound and bundled up, her mouth gagged. _To stop her casting_ , he notes distantly. “Willow?” Ethan tugs the fabric from her mouth and puts his fingers to her neck. She has a pulse. Thank Janus. There’s a ring of teeth marks at her throat. “Willow?” Ethan tries one last time. Getting no answer, Ethan struggles to his feet, bounds back up the stairs to call an ambulance.

*****

Entering the mansion’s garden, Buffy darts forward with a cry of, “Angel, the sun!”

Giles, behind her, has time to take in the absence of smoke rising from the vampire’s skin before Buffy bundles him into the shade of the building.

“Buffy!” he laughs. “Easy – I’m okay!” Looking over her shoulder as Giles enters, he adds, “Hey Giles”.

“Hello” Giles is instinctively cautious at finding him in such a good mood.

“Giles drove me” Buffy explains, before smacking Angel across the chest. “Apparently to stop you dusting yourself! What the hell’s going on?”

Angel laughs again but pulls himself together when Buffy looks truly murderous. Smiling, he takes her hand and raises it to his chest.

Stepping closer, Giles studies him, unease still growing: Angel looks the same but something is off somehow. Some trace of magic lingers tauntingly around the vampire’s general vicinity, just subtle enough that it fades as Giles tries to focus in on it. Nevertheless, it is definitely magic and definitely unstable. The air around Angel feels as though it is about to crack or ignite.

Buffy doesn’t seem to notice. Giles watches as her face flickers from distress to bewilderment to incredulous joy. “Your heart!” she gasps. She presses her hand harder against Angel’s chest, as if she’s trying to burrow through to the organ in question. “Giles, his heart!”

Glancing at Angel, Giles reaches out a hand and touches Angel’s neck. Angel lifts his head a little to accommodate the contact. It feels far too intimate even without the skin-crawling sense of magic around them, but Giles has only a minute to focus on that before wonder takes over as his fingers encounter a pulse. “Good lord.”

“He’s human” Buffy smiles. “Angel, you’re human!”

“I noticed.” “How is this possible?” Buffy is gripping him with both hands now, practically bouncing. Giles steps back and pulls his glasses from his face.

“I don’t know” Angel replies. “I was here last night and…I’m not sure, but something happened. All I know is something happened and I woke up late this morning – well, early for me – and I was on the floor, in my clothes –”

“Something attacked you?” asks Giles. Something with awesome power, surely, given the mafic still lingering.

But Angel shakes his head. “No”

“Was someone here?”

“I don’t think…maybe. But no-one actually came in and spoke, and then I was out. And when I woke up I checked the place – no-one here – so I just went to bed. And when I woke up I was hungry. And not for blood. That’s when I noticed the pulse.”

“It’s a miracle!” Buffy’s eyes are brimming.

“It’s a spell” mutters Giles.

“It did feel like magic” Angel nods.

“I can sense it still working.”

“Whatever it is” Buffy smiles up at Angel, “Angel, you’re human! This is…Oh, God!” She kisses him. Passionately. Giles turns away, not particularly wanting to see that, but aware there is no harm in it under the circumstances.

He examines the room. Nothing amiss. “The demon?”

“Gone” Angel replies, and Buffy giggles her delight into his shoulder.

*****

Leaving them alone together is Giles’ only option. Their all-consuming glee leaves them good for one thing only and Giles has a feeling that one thing only is what they are up to in Angel’s bed before he even pulls away from the curb.

No danger of curses breaking, of course. The curse is irrelevant right now, while whatever has transformed Angel is very relevant and very new.

And so, after a brief call to Jenny – who is as stunned as he is – Giles heads alone to the Magic Box to see if his partner’s expertise can shed light on the matter.

An ambulance is pulled up outside. At the sight of it, Giles almost abandons his car in the road, only parking it when he realises it will block the other vehicle’s exit otherwise.

Car out the way, he jumps out with his keys still in the ignition and runs over to the shop.

Ethan is standing outside, apparently unharmed. Giles sends a silent prayer of thanks to every god he’s ever heard of, including the dark ones. “Ethan?”

“Rupert!” Ethan blinks at him as though he can’t work out how Giles got here.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Willow”

*****

It’s not Ethan’s first time in an interrogation room and he sits through the questions with barely concealed resentment.

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I was a little taken up with calling the ambulance.”

“You didn’t check the basement earlier today?”

“I wasn’t in earlier today. I was collecting an order.”

“An order of…what are those things?”

“Grubs for pet reptiles. I do a side line. Lots of my customers keep snakes. I could show you the paper work.” Actually, he couldn’t, but he could cast a confusion hex while pretending to look for it.

“Who else has a key to your shop?”

“Only me and Willow.” He must have used her key to get in. Forced her to take down the wards. Bastard.

“She work for you?”

“She looked after the shop while I was away over summer.” What caused the moment’s happiness? Isn’t Buffy keeping her distance these days?

“The two of you have any disagreements lately?”

“No.” Order verses chaos. Admittedly reckless magic use verses catastrophically controlling spells. Randall’s ghost lingering over all of it. “She’s a dear girl.”

Gods, the last time he saw her, they’d fought.

“Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt her?”

“No” Ethan keeps his expression perfectly bland. Just let him out of here and the bastard will burn.

“She mention receiving any threats? Got any angry exes?”

“No threats, and her ex boyfriend’s a lovely chap.” Has someone told him?

“What’s his name?”

“Oz. Daniel Osbourne.” Willow had written it in hearts all over the inside covers of the school books back when they first started dating. Not the outside – she didn’t want her teachers to tell her off. Adorably eager to please, always.

“You know why they split up?”

“No. Probably just grew apart.” Best not to bring snogs in abandoned factories into this.

“You sure he wouldn’t want to hurt her?”

“Positive”

“He have a key to your shop?”

“I told you: only me and Willow have keys.”

“Can you explain to me again your relationship with the victim?”

Friend, kindred spirit, partner in crime. “I help her with school work.”

Gods, let her be alright.

*****

“How is she?” Ethan demands as soon as he’s through the door at the end of the hallway. Giles, out of Willow’s hospital room because he honestly needed a break, sighs. “Are you alright?” he asks.

“Rupert”

“Very well” Giles nods to some chairs against the opposite wall and leads the way over to them.

Ethan stays standing. “Is she alive?”

“She’s…Yes, we think so.”

“You _think so_?”

“She’s been fed from, Ethan. We have to consider the possibility that –”

“No” Ethan sakes his head, arms folding defensively.

“We have to consider the possibility she’s been turned” Giles finishes because he has to. That’s his job, after all, isn’t it? To think and do what other people can’t face. Even, Gods help him, staking Willow.

“But she has a pulse” Ethan argues. “Yes?”

“Yes. But if she was forced to feed, she won’t have for long.”

“Crap” Ethan finally sits down.

Giles wraps an arm around him. “She may not have been sired” he murmurs. “And aside from that, it wasn’t as bad as it must have looked: A broken finger. A head wound from being thrown down the stairs. That’s all.”

“That’s all?!”

“It could be worse, Ethan. Whoever it was could have raped her, or slit her throat, or –”

“Yes, yes, Rupert, stop!” Ethan holds up a defensive palm.

“Sorry”

“Wait” Ethan frowns. “Whoever did this’? We know who did this!”

“I know what you said but –”

“Fucking Angel!”

“Angel’s human, Ethan.”

“He’s – what?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to explain before the police arrived: he’s human, somehow. Something made him human.”

“But he phoned me. He knew Willow was in the basement.”

“He’s with Buffy in the relatives’ waiting room right now. He has a pulse. He’s been out in the sun.” Gently, Giles strokes a stray hair from Ethan’s stunned face. “Any idea what could have done this?”

Slowly, realisation seeps into Ethan’s expression. “Willow” he says.

*****

Once again, Willow is unconscious in a hospital bed, her parents racing back from some far flung corner of the country, her friends already here. Oz, sitting at her bedside, grips her hand. Xander has his head in his at the other end of the room. Faith leans on the window sill looking mildly concerned and significantly out of place. A third chair is occupied by Jenny, who had pulled them all out of class to drive them over here. She looks up as Giles and Ethan enter, but it is Faith Giles beckons over, leading her back out the door to talk in the corridor.

“Any change?”

“Nope” Faith replies. “She’s still out of it.”

“I need you to stay here until she wakes up, even if Buffy is around too.”

Faith gives him a long, knowing look. “You want me to stake her?”

“I hope she won’t need staking. But in case…”

“Right. In case Buffy can’t.”

“Yes” Giles honestly doesn’t know if Buffy could find it in her to kill a demon wearing Willow’s face, and he doesn’t want to find out. Couldn’t do that to her, not when Faith is right here.

Faith nods. “Sure. I mean yeah. I mean, it’s not like I want her dead either, you know? But I’ll do it if I have to.”

“Thank you.”

*****

“So let me get this straight” says Buffy. “Angel’s human but he’s also the vampire who attacked Willow? How is that possible?”

“Magic” says Angel shortly. There is no view from the window of the relatives’ waiting room but he still stands by it, letting the sunlight play over the skin of his arms. Ethan is glad of the distance this puts between him and the others in the room. Not that he is any threat at the moment but there is a shroud of powerful magic around him that makes things seem a little off-kilter, an uncomfortable sensation that would only grow if he came closer.

Buffy eyes him warily. “You mean, maybe whatever turned you human lets the demon back in at night?” She looks at the adults in the room: Ethan, Rupert and Jenny, all assembled on the plasticy couches. “Is that possible?”

“It depends which spell was cast” Jenny replies. To Ethan she adds, “We’ll need to see what she’s been reading.”

“If she read it” he replies grimly. “This could be magic she invented.” A growing part of him wants to have a stern, Rupert-style talk with the girl when all this is over. After all, he’d warned her, hadn’t he?

And she would need to be alive for a stern talk, so there’s always that. Better to be angry than the alternative.

Buffy asks, “How do we know it was even Angelus who did this?”

Ethan responds, “Well him phoning me up was his first clue”

“Maybe you mistook his voice” Buffy retorts. “Let’s face it, you’re not exactly unbiased when it comes to Angel.”

“Can’t think why.”

Before Buffy can reply, Rupert cuts in with, “Buffy, what you’re saying is that perhaps Angel miraculously became human overnight and on that same night Willow was very specifically targeted by a vampire who knew she could do magic and sounds like Angel on the phone and it was sheer coincidence?”

Buffy looks down at her hands in her lap. “Well when you put it like that” she concedes. Angel finally leaves his patch of sunlight to put a hand on her shoulder. Ethan tries not to flinch as the sensation of lingering magic grows as he comes closer.

Jenny says, “This is Angelus’ work” and Angel nods his agreement, resignation etched in his face. “Yeah. The broken finger, the phone call. Before the soul, this is the sort of thing I’d do.”

“Not you” Buffy insists.

“As you don’t remember attacking Willow” Jenny reasons, looking at Angel, “Either the spell’s affecting your memory or it’s created a separate body for Angelus.”

“I’d go with separate body” Ethan tells her. The magic around him seems sort of fractured.” Like a fine dusting of smashed glass coats the air around the man.

“It couldn’t have just turned him human and left it at that?” mutters Buffy.

“No” replies Ethan. “Magic generally needs balance.”

“Precisely” Rupert echoes. “A spell to do great good always comes with a price. In this case, it might create a monster, or um…”

“Unleash one” Angel finishes quietly.

“Yes”

“She wanted to split you” Ethan says, the memory entering his mind from amid all the stress. “Into the demon and the soul.”

Buffy stares at him. “You didn’t think to mention this sooner?”

“I told her it was a bad idea. This was ages ago.”

“Well way to go with the pep talk: she’s probably been working on it ever since in-between homework and her science fair project!”

Rupert puts in, “Buffy, you can’t blame Ethan for this.”

“Why not? He taught her magic!”

Ethan asks, “So you’re not happy about Angel being human?”

“Not if it means Willow dying!”

“Not if it means unleashing Angelus” Angel echoes.

Raising a calming hand, Jenny asks, “What about a location spell? See if the demon’s somewhere separate?”

“I don’t know” replies Ethan. He nods to Angel. “His aura’s all over the place; the magic’s fragmented it. I don’t think it would work.”

“Worth a try” Rupert prompts. “Perhaps you and Jenny could get over to the Magic Box and work on that, and at the same time see if you can work out which spell Willow used.”

Jenny nods. “We’ll call in at her house on the way, look at her magic books.”

Ethan asks, “You’ll call us, won’t you? If she wakes up?”

“I promise I’ll call if there’s any change at all.”

*****

“How is she?” asks Joyce over the phone.

Giles glances over that the children, still arranged in their tableau around Willow’s bed. Buffy and Angel are here now too, Angel standing awkwardly, Buffy holding Willow’s free hand, the one Oz hasn’t been clasping since his arrival. “No change I’m afraid.”

He hears Joyce sigh. “Her poor parents” she says.

“Yes”

“Look, Rupert, I’m sorry to bother you at a time like this, but I’ve just had an odd phone call.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Angel’s voice – or it sounded like Angel’s voice, but…”

Giles looks over at Angel expecting to meet his gaze, but Angel isn’t looking his way. He can’t hear Joyce, Giles realises: he no longer has vampire hearing. Instead he has a reflection in the window behind him, through which sunlight streams. “What did he say?” he prompts.

“He said ‘soon’” Joyce tells him. “It wasn’t Angel, was it? It was the other one.”

“Are you at the gallery?” Giles asks, and Buffy looks over at that.

“Yes” Joyce confirms.

“Get home before dark, won’t you? Or if you need to stay late, call us.” Buffy or Faith can walk her home.

“I will. Give my love to the girls.” Joyce signs off.

Buffy asks, “My mom?”

“Yes” Giles replaces the receiver. “She sends her love.”

“She just rang for that, or…”

“She’s had a phone call at the gallery” Giles explains.

“From him” Angel concludes.

“Yes”

Xander asks, “What did he say?”

“He said ‘soon’”

Faith shifts. “Not at all ominous.”

Buffy asks, “Don’t suppose he conveniently said where he is?” and Faith puts in, “Well we know it’s somewhere with a phone.”

“That’s right” says Angel. “Could be a motel, or an abandoned building still hooked up to the phone network.” He steps towards the door and out of the sunlight. “I’m going to find him. Put an end to this.”

“I’ll come with you” Buffy starts after him, but he turns and says, “No. You stay here with Willow. Angelus is my problem.”

“He has a point” says Xander. Ignoring that, Buffy laughs at Angel without humour. “Earth to Angel? You’re human now. What are you going to do against Angelus?”

Angel looks nonplussed for just a second. “I can handle myself” he replies uncertainly. Noting Buffy’s incredulous expression, he relents. “Alright, so I won’t confront him. But I can find him. I know how he thinks.”

Buffy stares him out. “Promise me you won’t fight him.”

“I’ll call when I know where he is” With that, Angel is gone.

*****

As Ethan had suspected, the location spell proved useless. With it’s target split, the magic couldn’t pinpoint either Angel or Angelus beyond recognising that they were both still near the hellmouth. Equally, Willow’s books were unilluminating. All her volumes on magic were lent by Ethan or borrowed from the library and didn’t give her information about magic powerful enough to have done this. “My money’s still on her inventing it” Ethan says, half-hearted searching the restricted section to see if anything’s missing. 

“Maybe” says Jenny from the shop floor, “but from scratch? She must have used something as her starting point.”

“Not necessarily” Ethan pulls down a book and flicks through it, looking for torn-out pages since the shelves up here seem as full as ever, though it’s hard to spot things that aren’t there. He wishes he’d kept a more careful inventory of this collection.

Downstairs, Jenny is hacking into various accounts Willow has on pagan websites. The sound of her fingers clacking against the keyboard of her laptop carries up the stairs.

It’s still beastly hot. So far, Ethan has been trying to ignore that because noticing the heat seems wrong with Willow hurt and possibly about to…

No. Better to focus on the weather than that. “Bloody hot” He puts the book back on the shelf. “You want a drink?”

“I’ll get us some water” There is the sound of Jenny’s chair being pushed back. Ethan hears the tap in the backroom come on and then Jenny calls up, “It’s down here”

Selecting another book and tucking it under his arm, Ethan climbs down into the relative coolness of the ground floor. “Any luck your end?”

“Nothing yet” Jenny’s fingers fly across the keyboard. Ethan sips his drink and watches, setting the book down. Glancing at it, Jenny asks, “She won’t have had time to read much of that, right? How many times has she been here without you?”

“Well, summer” Ethan admits. “Once or twice aside from that. That I know of.”

“Damn it” Jenny shakes her head. “I had no idea how deep into all this she was.”

“I told her it was dangerous” argues Ethan. “She’s usually careful.”

“You know that building her confidence thing we were all doing? Maybe we went too far. She shouldn’t have thought she could even attempt this.”

To be fair to the girl, thinks Ethan, it worked. Though look where it got her. He says nothing. He sets his glass down again and takes up the book, flicking through the pages until they fall open at –

“Oh”

Jenny looks up and raises an eyebrow. “Let me guess: that didn’t come with the book?”

“Shouldn’t think so” Ethan sets aside the rainbow coloured bookmark. Willow told him she hadn’t looked at anything in particular and now it turns out she was keeping her place in one of the books; when did she become such a good liar? He studies the page she wanted to keep. Reads the chapter title: “Uses of Mohra blood in hexes and enchantments”

“Shit, Ethan” Jenny eyes him warily. “Why’d you even have that in the store?”

“Research” Ethan replies defensively. “It’s not like it’s for sale.”

“Just sitting up there waiting for a teenage girl to read.”

“A teenage girl who’s so scared of getting in trouble she panics if her homework’s going to be late in” Ethan argues. But he has to concede that Jenny has a point: if he’d just kept this at home, or better yet not had it, Willow might be in school right now. To cover his guilt, he reads swiftly through the effects Mohra can have on vampires, while Jenny returns to her screen. After a while she says, “Look at this. Demonolgy.com: Willow was asking about the Tothric clan.” She looks up. “Didn’t they have ways to separate their warriors from their weaknesses? Leave the weak part at home in the lair while the scary part went to battle?”

“That could be a basis for splitting Angel and his demon” Ethan nods.

“I should call Steliana, tell her what’s happened.” Jenny starts to rise but then stalls. “Or not. I don’t know what the elders will even make of this. They’ll say I should have seen it coming.” She glances at Ethan. “Which really, I should have. Or one of us should have.” 

“She was only trying to help” says Ethan. He should have, he thinks. But then, he’d warned Willow, hadn’t he? He can hardly be held responsible for her breaking his trust.

“I’ll leave it for now” Jenny decides. “Let the elders know once it’s resolved. However that happens.” She frowns, noticing something on the screen. “She had a reply…some demon hunter seems to have known a lot about the Tothric…Oh” she stands up. “I need to call Angel.”

*****

Getting Xander and Oz out the room had taken some doing, but eventually Giles had insisted that fetching some familiar items from Willow’s home would be appreciated once she woke up. That, according to the doctors, is looking to be soon, which means that if – Gods forbid – the girl has been turned, this is the point where her heart inexplicably fails and her fangs emerge. Faith stands ready, fingers closed around an almost-concealed stake in her shirt sleeve and Buffy, still gripping Willow’s hand, refuses to look at her. To say things are tense would be something of an understatement. Everyone jumps when the phone rings.

Giles answers. “Hello?” Behind him he senses Faith turn her attention back to Willow, while Buffy leaves the bedside and comes to stand beside him.

“Rupert” Jenny’s voice greets him. “Is Angel there?”

“No, he’s, um, he’s tracking Angelus.” Giles glances at Buffy as she drifts away again, realising it isn’t Angel on the other end.

“Damn” Jenny sighs. “That’s exactly what I didn’t want you to tell me!”

“What is it?”

“Angel and Angelus are still the same person – if he kills the demon, he dies too.”

“Ah. Hold on.” Giles sets the phone aside and addresses Buffy. “Buffy, if Angelus dies, Angel dies, so I think perhaps –”

Faith beats him to it. “Damn. Definitely you can’t wing it and hope he’ll hold off and wait for you” She nods to the door, implying Buffy should leave, but Buffy stays where she is, glances at Willow. Faith adds, “I’ve got this, B”

“Right” Buffy steps closer to the bed, indicates the phone with a glance. “Is that Jenny and Ethan? Tell them I’m on it.”

Giles lifts the phone again. “Jenny? Buffy’s going to find him. The doctors are optimistic about Willow waking up soon, so you and Ethan had better get over here.” Putting the phone down, he watches Buffy bend and kiss Willow gently on the forehead. As she heads to the door, Giles asks, “What will you do?”

“Find Angelus first, I guess. Hold him somehow. Angel has chains at the mansion.”

“Really don’t want to know that” Faith mutters.

Giles says, “Buffy, Angelus is –”

“Long overdue a good thrashing” she finishes. “Don’t worry, Giles, I can take him. I’ll start at Willy’s Place, see if Angel’s been by.”

As she opens the door, Giles turns to the other slayer. “Faith, go with her.” To Buffy, he adds, “Between two of you, you have a better chance.”

“Well” Buffy frowns. “Yeah. But.” She gestures to Willow, obviously unable to word what would happen if she were to wake up without her soul.

Giles approaches Faith and gently extracts the stake from her sleeve. “I’ll be alright.”

Faith studies him. “You sure you can handle it?”

“I’m certain.”

“Giles” Buffy tries, “you shouldn’t have to –”

“No-one should” Giles tells her. “But sadly it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been faced with a friend turned demon.”

“Right” Buffy gives Willow one last heartfelt look and exits swiftly, followed by Faith who murmurs, “Good luck”.

“And to you” replies Giles as he watches them go.

Left alone, he sits by Willow’s bedside. Doesn’t hold her hand because that would make it harder. Watches her heartbeat dance across a screen to the side.

He’s only ever known one person to wake up a vampire in a hospital bed. A young man he’d trained with, Stanley, had been found drained in a London alley, pulse erratic, and rushed to St Mary’s. In the days that followed he’d been transferred to the Council’s own sick bay in HQ, where he could be properly guarded. Giles hadn’t seen Stanley wake but had heard from his uncle all about how his heart, which should have been going strong after the transfusions, simply stopped one evening, and how he almost drained a nurse bone-dry before he was staked through his back by his father.

If a father can stake his own son, Giles reasons, he should be able to stake Willow. Really, it wouldn’t be Willow. It hadn’t been Stanley.

It must have looked just like him.

Willow opens her eyes. Giles turns to check the screen. Her heart’s still beating. “Willow!” He takes her hand, presses his fingers to her bony wrist. Her pulse is steady.

“Hey Giles.” Willow blinks at him, dazed. She’s still warm, despite the air-conditioning. Human-warm. Giles asks, “Do you know where you are?”

“Um. No. But” She eyes the IV drip and monitor. “I’m guessing hospital?”

“Yes, that’s right. Sunnydale General. Your parents are on their way.”

“Are they mad?”

“I can’t see why they would be.”

For a moment, Willow looks relieved, but then a sudden realisation comes over her. “Oh! Are you mad?”

For that, of all things, to be her concern, is jarring. “Willow, what happened?”

“I was trying to help. I didn’t mean to do it.” Willow glances around the room. “Is Buffy okay? Did he hurt her?”

“Buffy’s fine. Willow –”

At that moment, Ethan and Jenny walk in. “Willow!” Ethan comes straight over.

“Hey Ethan” Willow manages a smile. Giles asks Jenny, “Could you fetch a doctor? She’s just woken up.” As Jenny leaves he turns back to Willow. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“Where is Buffy?” Willow squeaks, her smile fading, “And Xander?”

“Buffy has gone to find Angelus” Giles explains. “Xander and Oz should be on their way back by now. Willow, what exactly did you do?”

Willow looks at Ethan, as though hoping he’ll rescue her. In a way he does, focusing on manageable details: “You adapted a Tothric ritual, didn’t you?”

“Yes. To separate them. It’s supposed to separate the strong part of someone and the weak part but I just tried to separate the demon from everything else.”

“And you added Mohra blood to make him human? Where on earth did you get it?”

“I synthesised it. It’s mostly salts and water and some demony chemicals. The stuff that wasn’t in the science lab I got in the Magic Box.” A pause. “I did pay for it. I put it in the till.”

Ethan stares at her. “I don’t give a damn about that.”

Willow flinches. Giles tells her, “Willow, do you understand how dangerous this was?”

She indicates her patched-up neck wound. “Kinda getting the picture now.”

Giles nods. “Tell me what happened.”

“I went over there…was it last night? To the mansion. And did this spell I invented.”

“You didn’t think to do it in the day time?” Ethan asks, and Giles wishes he hadn’t: that Willow did it at all is the issue, not the time of day she picked.

Willow nods weakly. “I was going to. But then I took longer than I thought to finish my history paper.”

“Good Lord” murmurs Giles. What has his partner done with those magic lessons? All this power and the girl’s still a child. Might as well give a gun to a toddler. Seeing Willow’s hurt gaze, he adds, “Go on.”

“Um. Well. I did it. And it worked.”

“And Angelus turned out to be just a small flaw, did he?” Ethan mutters. Giles asks, “Did you expect Angel to be awake to defend you?”

“No – I had a plan for trapping Angelus. There’s this chant for paralysing pure demons. The Hograthian Rite.”

“The Hograthian Rite barely exists anymore” Ethan tells her. “It’s been translated from one language to another until it’s lost all meaning.”

“Well I think I had it” argues Willow. “But I don’t think he was pure demon – I think he had a few Angely bits. I was thinking he’d look different but he just looked like Angel’s evil twin again. And he moved faster than I could chant.” She offers what would be a self-deprecating smile if it was offered by anyone who hadn’t just meddled with the nature of reality. “I guess I was kind of hoping he’d be unconscious too.”

“What did he do?” asks Ethan, before Giles can berate her.

“He grabbed me” Willow frowns. “I think he covered my hands with something. It’s kind of a blur. It hurt.” She lifts a hand to examine her splinted finger. “And then he took me to the Magic Box.” She sniffs, suddenly tearful. “He made me take down the wards. I was going to try to hex him but I’d sort of done my being brave for the night. I just did what he told me.”

“And thank God for that” says Giles quietly, “or he would have killed you.” He hands her a tissue. “Did he do anything else?”

“He tried to make me give him a spell to kill Angel. I said it would kill him too so he opened the basement door and he – and he –” Willow brakes off a sob. Ethan clutches her good hand and tells her, “You’re safe now.”

“Yes” adds Giles, “he can’t hurt you here.”

“But I unleashed him! What if he hurts Buffy?”

“Perhaps you should have thought about that before you did this in secret” Giles tells her, and she stares at him, hurt transmuting into a growing defiance. Before either can say more, the doctor enters, closely followed by Jenny, Xander and Oz, and the time for confrontation is past.

*****

“How’s Willow?” Buffy greets Giles as he enters the mansion.

“Fragile” he replies honestly. “Um. How are things here?”

From behind Buffy, an unmistakable laugh answers the question. “Just peachy. Hello Rupes.”

Stepping further into the building, Giles finds Angelus chained to the far wall, Faith and Angel standing guard.

It takes a lot not to turn around and leave again. “Where did you find him?”

“Convent” replies Angel shortly. “I should have known he’d wind up there.”

“Oh God” murmurs Giles. “The nuns, are they –”

“All still virgins” Angelus gives a lopsided smile. “More’s the pity.” He laughs when Angel hits him.

Hurrying over to pull her human boyfriend away from the demon, Buffy explains, “Seems like he hid in the catacombs most of the time. Just snuck up to prank call my mom.” She punches Angelus herself, and this time he is knocked out, left dangling like a broken puppet.

Giles wishes very much that Willow’s spell didn’t have its flaw, that they could simply stake Angelus here and now. Or better yet, set him ablaze. But this is not the case so he asks Faith, “Are you alright to watch him? Buffy, Angel, I think we need to talk.”

“No” Buffy replies, her voice brittle. “We’re good here.”

“What” Faith tilts her head at the demon, “your solution is to just leave that decorating your boyfriend’s living room from now on?”

“Giles is right, Buffy” Angel tells her. “We need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t! You’re human now, Angel. You’re staying human.”

“Let’s just hear them out.”

Faith takes a seat on the couch. “Well, not that anyone cares about my night, but I can stay here.”

Giles nods. “Thank you. Keep him unconscious, won’t you?”

“What, in case he escapes? I won’t let that happen, I’m not Willow”

“Faith, don’t.” Buffy’s voice is cold.

“Whatever. You go, B. You guys have stuff to sort out.”

“If he breaks free” Angel tells her, “stake him.”

*****

Ethan is a little surprised when Angel walks in to the flat without an invite before he remembers he’s human now. Buffy follows, arms folded and expression guarded, and sits so close to Angel on the sofa she’s practically on his lap. He wraps an arm around her.

How she can stand to be so close to him is beyond Ethan: skewed magic is still coming off him in waves.

Rupert comes in behind them and perches on the arm of Ethan’s chair. Buffy looks at the two of them and at Jenny, who sits opposite. “So…is this the part where you all tell me we have to undo it? ’Cause it’s not going to happen.”

“Buffy” Angel strokes her arm. “If you keep me like this, Angelus is free.”

“Yeah, in a really chained up sense.”

“We can’t keep him chained forever” Jenny points out. “He’s escaped capture before.”

“Well we’ll make sure he doesn’t this time!”

“All it takes is once” Giles reminds her. “We’re very lucky he didn’t kill anyone this time.”

“It might still turn out he has” says Angel gravely. “Homeless people, prostitutes. We can’t be sure he won’t have taken someone who won’t be quickly missed.”

“But he’s in chains now” Buffy repeats. “We’re not going to let him go.”

“The magic is unstable” Ethan tells her. He gestures to Angel. “It’s fragmented his aura. Broken up his essence.”

“Okay, Ethan, I know you struggle with this concept, but this is Angel. Angelus is a whole separate being chained up in the mansion.” Buffy looks at Rupert and adds, “Which is where he’s staying.”

“Oh, I see” Ethan replies sarcastically, “Nothing that could go wrong there.”

There is a tense silence then. Rupert gets up and makes tea for everyone while Buffy meets no-one’s eyes and Angel glances apologetically between Ethan and Jenny.

No-one actually wants tea in this heat. Once the untouched drinks are arranged on the coffee table, Rupert pulls a chair over from the dining area to sit next to Ethan. Probably doesn’t want to be to close to the cloying magic around Angel. Gently, he says, “Ethan’s right, Buffy. The spell might have split Angel and Angelus but it’s going against the way they naturally are. The magic’s straining already.”

“It’s reality verses magic” Ethan agrees. “She hasn’t changed reality, she’s just pissed it off.”

“You’re saying it won’t last” Angel says quietly. His embrace of Buffy tightens almost imperceptivity but he doesn’t look scared, or even surprised. Poor bastard, Ethan thinks suddenly. All this time tied to a demon and now he’s got to go back to it. Must be like getting a brief gulp of air in the midst of drowning.

“This isn’t your natural state of being” Jenny tells him gently.

“So change nature!” Buffy says, desperately. “Isn’t that the point of magic?” She turns to Ethan, who shakes his head. Buffy’s expression changes, darkens, and she looks away. Appeals to Jenny, “Someone must be able to fix the spell.”

“You don’t just ‘fix’ spells” Jenny explains. “Don’t you think I’d have changed the curse if it was that easy?”

“Well the curse is gone now!” Buffy turns to Rupert. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s not gone” Jenny replies. “I talked to a seer from the clan before I came over.”

Everyone stares at her. Buffy asks. “It’s still there? But how can it be?”

“It’s designed to take his soul if he feels true happiness” Jenny states. “He still has a soul and he still has the ability to feel true happiness. It stuck around.”

“But it was for Angelus.” Buffy insists. “They did it on Angelus.”

“And Angel and Angelus are still intertwined” Jenny explains. “The magic might have forced them apart but that’s artificial. They belong together.”

“No they don’t!” Buffy snaps. “Anyway, it’s not working – we” She stops abruptly and turns slowly to Angel. Quietly asks him, “That wasn’t perfect happiness?”

“I was scared the curse was still in place” he replies quietly. “It was happiness and fear.”

“Not pure” Bless her but the girl sounds so sad. Ethan says, “Look, Buffy, even I’d shore up this spell if there was a way. But there isn’t.”

“I don’t understand” Buffy tells them. “If it’s possible to do it why isn’t it possible to make it last?”

Ethan answers, “It’s more illusion than anything. Like Jenny said, they’re still intertwined.”

“He’s still part of me” Angel agrees.

“No he’s not” Buffy argues.

Angel tells her, “I realised earlier I don’t know how to speak Latin any more. He must have that part. He must have the memory of my time in France because I can’t picture a thing about it. What if he got all my fighting skills too? How am I supposed to protect you from him then?”

“Newsflash, Angel: I don’t need protecting.”

“If he got out you would” Angel replies. “You never had to face off against him; you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“Read the highlights” Buffy retorts. Gesturing to Rupert she adds, “Saw the aftermath. But we’ve got him in chains.” To the rest of them she adds, “Look, we don’t need to make the spell last forever. We could just make it last as long as possible. Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll keep going for Angel’s whole life!”

Ethan shakes his head again: the magic around the former vampire is still pulsing and straining disconcertingly. The air feels the way air feels when magic doesn’t take right. “We’ll be lucky if lasts the month.”

“So let’s see if it does” Buffy insists.

“I wish we could, Buffy” says Rupert. “But it’s a terrible risk.”

“But we could! We could trap him somewhere – Angelus I mean” She looks at Jenny. “All this time honing the vengeance and now your clan have a clear shot of him – all Angelus, no human. We could send him to them.”

Jenny shakes her head sadly. “They don’t see things the way you do” she replies. “They brought back the soul to torment Angelus. With the soul and the demon disconnected now, that’s not happening.”

“Besides” says Rupert, “that’s not the sort of risk I meant.”

Angel nods his understanding. “Consequences” he murmurs.

“Yes”

Buffy looks from Rupert to Angel and back. “What am I missing?”

“Magic has consequences” Ethan reminds her. “Not all spells just wear off neatly. Some go wrong in more dramatic ways and spells that are designed to keep things just the way the caster wants tend to go wrong rather dramatically.”

“It could dust us both” Angel tells her, “Me and him. Or swap us around so I’m the one in chains.”

“And that’s before you even factor in that the curse is unstable because the new spell’s messing with it.” Jenny adds. “It could shift and Angelus could end up with the soul, leaving Angel a soulless human.”

Buffy turns to Ethan. “So fix the spell. There’s got to be a way.”

“It’s not my sort of magic” he tells her. Honestly, he wouldn’t know where to start even before adjusting for the orderly nature of Willow’s magic. Magic is like clay waiting to be shaped until you cast it, and then it’s like clay fresh out the kiln: shape set, purpose preordained. Not something one can just casually make adjustments to here and there.

“So try” Buffy pleads.

Jenny tells her, “If he tries and fails, Angel could die”

“Maybe Willow could do it?”

“I’m afraid not” Rupert replies. “Magic can’t be easily changed once it’s cast. Even standard spells and this one is fighting against reality.”

“And reality’s winning” mutters Angel.

Buffy tries, “What about the watchers? Couldn’t they pull secret society strings and find a way?”

Rupert shakes his head. “They’ll tell you the same thing we are: this magic isn’t stable. It’s trying to right itself and if we don’t help it along there will be complications. A further price to pay.”

“So I’ll pay it” Buffy insists.

“With whose life?” Rupert asks. There is a silence then, until Angel speaks: “The risk’s too big. Buffy. Even without the curse still on me and the spell going wrong, Angelus will escape. He’s been trapped long enough by the soul; he’s determined. Chains aren’t going to hold him long.”

“So we’ll put him in a box or something. We’ll bury him.”

“He’ll get out. It’s too dangerous.” Angel turns to Jenny. “Undo the spell.”

“Angel –” Buffy starts and he turns back to her to say, “It’s my choice, Buffy.” To Jenny, he asks, “You can change me back, can’t you?”

“I think it would take a practitioner” Jenny replies. “Ethan?”

Ethan looks at Buffy’s heartbroken expression and decides, “I think Willow needs to be the one to do it. The magic should hold for a few days while she recovers and it’ll probably respond better to her.” They have both saved his life on occasion, after all. Let them have a few days.

*****

Christmas Eve morning, four days later, brings Buffy, sitting at the edge of the fountain in the courtyard. Seeing her from the window, Giles heads out to join her, bringing refreshments.

“Tea, Giles?” Buffy looks astonished. “It’s like, ninety-six degrees!”

“So, it’ll make you sweat a little and that will cool you down.” Giles sets the tray aside and sits next to her.

“You’re weird and gross, you know that?” She smiles at him briefly before turning her attention back to the book in her hands, a slim, nondescript volume.

For a while, they sit in silence, mainly, Giles supposes, because there is not much to say. What Buffy and Angel have been doing over the last few days is, frankly, none of his business. He trusted them not to provoke the curse and they didn’t. He need know no more, though he happens also to know that whatever they were doing, it wasn’t at the mansion.

He himself has been there regularly, whenever he wasn’t visiting Willow at the hospital, and Buffy acknowledges this by asking, “Are you okay after the guard duty?”

“Yes” Giles confirms. “Faith did most of it.” Poor Faith has been virtually living at the mansion, ready to be their third line of defence against Angelus after the chains and the spell Ethan cast to hold the vampire in place. It wasn’t quite a barrier spell, if the demon’s discomfort had been anything to go by. When challenged, Ethan had attempted to look innocent, something he really should just admit he can’t pull off, and said, “What? I know we can’t kill him but no-one said he had to be comfortable.”

“Yeah” Buffy muses. “I owe Faith one.” She turns the book over and over in her hands, stroking its cover unconsciously. Giles asks her, “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Oh” She looks down at it. “Angel gave it to me, before…So, how was Willow?”

Giles is momentarily taken aback that she hasn’t spoken to Willow herself, but it makes sense, he realises: Buffy had absented herself from witnessing the reversal spell last night, and, since she has been off somewhere with Angel for the last few days, cramming in the quality time as she put it, it’s not surprising she hasn’t been to the hospital either.

“She was fine. The spell turned out not to be particularly demanding.”

“Angel said it was quick.”

“It was.” Really, the most time consuming part was shooting Angelus with the tranquiliser gun so they could draw the sacred circle around him. Angel had then stepped into it and the rest had involved Willow sprinkling some herbs and undoing the enchantment with a series of simple declarations. If Giles had had his suspicions that Ethan had refused to do it for Buffy’s sake before, it was obvious once he had witnessed the act. But he doesn’t tell Buffy this: it is rare indeed for Ethan to perform a charitable act without expecting praise, and Giles doesn’t want to discourage him.

Buffy says, “I should call her. Maybe tomorrow. I think Faith’s going to be hogging my mom what with the actual family holiday thing being all shiny and new for her.” She scowls briefly. “Mom’s all over it too. She actually laid a fire this morning because it ‘looks festive’. Part of the reason I came over here – I didn’t want to roast.” She offers him a mock-glare. “And then you give me hot tea. Are grown ups just biologically incapable of feeling the heat?”

Ignoring the question, Giles asks, “So what was the other part of the reason you came over? Not that it’s not lovely to see you.”

“I guess I have been the Invisible Woman the last few days.”

“I don’t mind about that. It’s perfectly understandable you’d want to spend time with Angel.”

“It was getting weird by the end” Buffy admits. “The spell started to…Well let’s just say the Irish accent was cute but not so much when he said he wasn’t meaning to slip into it. And something was up with his shadow. Plus, his reflection kept going all blurry. I don’t think it was ever going to take, was it? I just wanted it to.”

Giles nods, because it is so. There had been complications at their end as well, Angelus’ new reflection starting to be visible in the pool of blood he regularly sweated. The latter, of course, might have been Ethan’s “barrier” spell, but the reflection and the unnerving tingling of magic in the air around him was Willow’s spell finally revolting. After all, the spell she adapted wasn’t designed to last: she just thought she could make it last with her own stubbornness coupled with magic she’s barely been honing for two years. Ordinarily he would point out the folly of this to Buffy, but she is disappointed enough by the spell’s failure, and her friendship with Willow is already under strain. Only a few people who are prepared to face the danger that comes with knowing a slayer, and Giles isn’t about to undermine Buffy’s relationship with one of those few. “I think calling her would be a good idea.”

“I should have done it already” Buffy murmurs. “I was just kind of taken up with Angely things. We camped out on the beach a lot. Talked. It was nice.” Nice, Giles senses, is a small and insufficient word to describe whatever his slayer and her lover have shared these past few days. Not that Buffy is being inarticulate, or rather, not that she is being inarticulate unconsciously: this is a conscious shying away from a more detailed description. Talking about it is painful. He tells her, “You don’t need to tell me anything if you don’t want to. I’m not angry with you for spending this time with him.”

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with Angelus without me.”

“I had Jenny and Faith to help. We kept him unconscious much of the time.”

“Right. But I should have helped. I just…”

“You had a chance to spend some time with Angel while he was briefly human and you took it. No-one’s judging you for that, Buffy.”

She relaxes just a little and he realises she was holding herself tense before. She strokes the covers of the book. Giles asks, “What is the book? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Love poems. Not usually into poetry but I can give it a go. Back after the Owen thing I actually did read some Emily Dickenson and she’s not bad.” She flips open the cover and Giles sees the title at last, on the inside cover page. Beneath it, in scrawled handwriting, is one word: always. Looking hastily away – the inscription is simple but intimate – Giles says, “Well I’m sure Angel will appreciate it if you give it a read.” He is keen to reminder her that Angel is still here, even if he is tied to his demon again.

But Buffy shakes her head. “That’s why I came: to tell you.” She draws a deep, shaky breath. “Angel’s gone. He left last night, after the spell was reversed. I went to see him after you’d all gone and he…” Another shaky breath. She quickly looks away, closes the book, wipes her eye.

“Buffy” Giles begins. He reaches for her, places a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll deal” she tells him, hastily steeling herself, more to protect him than herself, he suspects. “Somehow.” She glances down at the book, grips it with both hands again. “I still think he’s making a mistake but he was all convinced I can do better than someone with a demon that comes attached. Stupid vampire.”

Sensible, self-sacrificing vampire, Giles reflects. Aloud, he says, “He wants what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, then why does it hurt so much?”

“I’m sorry, Buffy.” Giles glances at the flat. Post-breakup comfort is not his forte but he imagines sugary snacks will help. “Would you like to come inside? I could make hot chocolate.”

“Again with the warm beverages.”

“Sorry. It’s just that it’s Christmas – hot chocolate seems required. And we have mince pies.”

“I’m not even gonna ask what those are.” Buffy stands. “Thanks, Giles, but I just came to tell you. What with Angel being…useful, and all.”

“We’ll manage.” Truthfully, Giles is more concerned with his slayer’s heartbreak than the loss of a useful ally.

“Anyway, he says he’ll stay close-ish in case of apocalypses. LA or somewhere.”

“I see. I really am sorry, Buffy.”

*****

“This is nice” Willow murmurs. They are on the beach on Christmas Day, her, Ethan and Xander. Xander is skimming stones at the shoreline, while Willow and Ethan sit a little way off and watch the horizon.

Rupert is still at the Summers’ house where they had Christmas dinner, but Ethan made his excuses to leave ahead of him and meet the others, drive them out here to enjoy the sunshine. Willow, of course, doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so her parents were not opposed to her being out the house for a few hours. Where Xander’s parents think he is, Ethan doesn’t ask and the boy doesn’t volunteer.

“Buffy took Angel here” Willow murmurs. “When he was human.”

“You spoke to her, then?”

“Last night. She was…” Willow trails off, bites a lip. “I didn’t mean for him to leave” she adds, “I wanted to make it easy for them to be together. He could have been human! Would have if the curse hadn’t unsettled my spell.”

Ethan looks at her: still frail after her brush with Angelus, still entertained by Xander’s Snoopy dance earlier. But she must have snuck into the restricted section dozens of times to create that spell, must have connected with magic ancient and dark to carry it off. She’s like a child with a chainsaw, innocent destruction. He sighs. “Willow, you could have been killed.”

“Exactly! I’m the one who got Angelused. No-one else got hurt.”

“Except Buffy and Angel.”

She gives him a look. “Yeah, ’cause you care so much about Angel.”

“I couldn’t give a fig about Angel. I’m just pointing out that people did get hurt besides you. And it could have been a lot worse. You were lucky it wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t luck.” Willow’s voice tilts into anger now. “I planned it all out, I researched it, I built my magic up and I did it. Even though you said I couldn’t.”

“Well obviously I was wrong about that.” Ethan shifts a little, starts tracing patterns in the sand. “But I wasn’t wrong that you shouldn’t have tried.”

“Is that why you didn’t visit me in hospital after the day I woke up?”

“No.” Ethan turns back to the sea. “Just didn’t want to have it out with you in with nurses coming and going. Plus I was busy with the Christmas rush at the shop. The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know.” Glancing at her, he adds, “And I thought Rupert would be better at the finger wagging.”

“Yeah, he’s good at that.” Willow sighs, wraps her arms around her knees. “I still wouldn’t have reversed it if I couldn’t sense it getting shaky anyway. Stupid curse.”

“It wasn’t just the curse.” When Willow frowns at him, Ethan asks, “What about next time Buffy has a problem?” Dropping his gaze to keep this as confrontation-free as possible, he returns to his doodling in the sand. Adds, “Will you try to fix it with magic again, without asking her?”

“I only didn’t ask in case it fell flat!” The girl sounds mildly shocked. “I didn’t want to get her hopes up. Plus, Christmas present.”

“You’re missing the point, Willow.”

Willow sighs expansively, the sarcastic sort of sigh that reprimanded children give. “Is this about chaos again?” When Ethan looks up sharply, she says in a gentler voice, “Cause I don’t think it’s for me. I’m order gal.”

“Yes you are, aren’t you?” Ethan looks down at his sand-patterns. “I don’t think I should teach you anymore.”

“What?” All trace of haughtiness and sarcasm leave Willow’s voice. “But – look – I’m sorry I didn’t say anything! I just knew you wouldn’t approve and I had to help Buffy!”

“It’s not that.”

“It’s chaos then? You’re kicking me out our lessons because your god doesn’t like me?”

“Oh, Janus likes you well enough. He needs some order to bounce off.” And he’s excited by the girl. Really, Ethan thinks, he should have read more into that than he did.

“Then what is it?”

“Willow, you must know your magic is at least as strong as mine. And you’ve tapped into it fully now. You don’t need lessons anymore.”

“Yes I do! I still need history and theory.”

“You can get that from books.”

“But what if I have questions? And how do I know which books without recommendations? There’s a whole world of not-very-accurate books out there.”

Ethan sighs again. Truthfully, he is a little heartened that she still wants teaching.

Unless she just wants access to the shop, that is. “One condition” Ethan decides. “You give me back your keys to the shop. I don’t want you unsupervised in there again.”

Willow nods, chastised. “Okay.”

“Good.” Ethan studies her, noting her pallor, the slight tremble in her hand as she tucks her hair behind her ear. He asks, “Do you need to go back?”

“Hm? No, I’m alright. And Xander likes it here.”

“Okay then.”

For a while, they just watch Xander pacing at the water’s edge, bending to pick stones up and test their flatness against his palm.

After a while, Willow says, “Oz asked me back out.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He said seeing me all hospitalised made him realise how much I mean to him.” She digs her fingertips into the sand. “I turned him down.”

“You did? I thought the two of you were all lovelorn.”

“Well so did I. But being apart these last few weeks, it’s made me think. I’ve been with Oz since I was sixteen and I’m eighteen now and it still feels…” Willow plucks a hand from the sand and gestures vaguely before sinking her fingers back into the beach. “I love him but not, well…And the same with Xander.”

“Willow, I feel I’m missing a vital piece of information here.”

“When did you start liking guys?”

Oh. “Oh. Well, I think I always did.” Ethan thinks back to a more confusing and lonely time. “I learnt to keep quiet about it but I always did.”

“Did you ever try with girls?”

“I like girls too” Ethan says.

“Oh. Well that must make things easier.”

“You’d be surprised how often that isn’t the case.” Ethan abandons his doodles and sits up straighter. “So. Girls?”

“Kind of. Maybe.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“No. You won’t tell anyone will you?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know, I just…I’m still figuring stuff out.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Ethan frowns. “You realise this is the sort of inner turmoil that doesn’t exactly help spells to go smoothly?”

“I didn’t let it interfere, Ethan. I was working on that spell for ages before I started thinking about this stuff. I even finished it ages ago, I just had a few kinks to work out.”

Kinks like how to _bind Angelus_? Ethan shudders. Willow adds, “And I didn’t let any of it get in the way of my school work, or the work you set me.”

“I don’t care about that. I’d rather you blow off homework than be dead.”

Willow barely acknowledges the concern, powers through with, “I’m just saying I appreciate the lessons so I kept up with the work. I even read up on weather magic – watch.”

It starts to snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for the update. My laptop is very elderly and has started to take issue with more strenuous requests such as that it turn on...


	49. Gingerbread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 3 episode 11, Gingerbread, written by Jane Espenson and Thania St.John.

“So guess where I’m moving to.” Jenny flashes Giles a smile over the top of her teacup but her eyes are tired.

“L.A.” Giles realises.

“Yup” Jenny puts her cup down. “It took a lot to persuade the clan that I should still be the one to watch him but I got there.”

Giles nods. This is a watcher’s lot in life, after all: go where you are needed. “Does Angel, um, know to expect you?”

“Yeah, we’ve been in touch.”

For a bizarre moment, Giles experiences an urge, born of growing up in a household where good manners were prized, to ask how the vampire is. He lets it pass. Then he tells Jenny, “You’ll be missed here. Though I doubt you’ll miss here of course.”

“Oh, I dunno, Sunnydale has it’s charms.” Jenny grins. “And, look, I won’t be too far away. We could still meet up if you ever feel like having a tattoo and Jisek Ghoul party.”

“Gods, don’t remind me!”

They share a moment of laughter, but then Jenny’s face sobers. “But seriously” she adds, “I will be only a few hours away if you need me for anything. Or if Willow does.” She inclines her head towards the open door of Giles and Ethan’s flat, beyond which a very sedate magic lesson is going on in the courtyard.

“Thank you” Giles tells her, more because the thought is appreciated than any conviction that she could stop Willow if the girl was about to do something reckless. Again.

Jenny asks, “Are you sure carrying on the magic lessons is a good idea?”

“She’d insist on learning it somewhere now” Giles reasons. “Better she learns it here where we can keep an eye on her.” Hearing Willow’s giggle from the courtyard, he adds, “Really, I suspect she values Ethan’s attention as much as the theory lessons.”  From what he has gathered, spending time with Willow is rarely her parents’ priority.

“I just hope she doesn’t get bored of theory” Jenny murmurs.

“So do I. Though I suspect she will, sooner or later.” Giles sighs. “We’ll just have to try to instil caution in her before then.”

“Caution’s fine” Jenny declares, “But try modesty. It wasn’t about being reckless, it was about wanting control. And power.”

“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” Willow is a child over enthusiastic about magic, not some power-crazed dark-sorcerer.

But Jenny shakes her head. “I was her computer science teacher before you even arrived in town, remember? Trust me, if she hadn’t got into magic, she’d be hacking like a world class pro by now.”

Feeling out of his depth, Giles watches the magic lesson from a distance. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

*****

“It was the most fucked up thing I ever saw” Faith declares in the library the next day. “And I’ve seen some fucked up things in my time.”

“They were children, Giles” adds Buffy. “Maybe eight years old.”

“Fucked up” Faith reiterates. “You know, joke is, I was going to blow off patrol and then Joyce was all _oh I made you girls some snacks to take_. Guilted me into it.” She sits apart from Giles and Buffy, sprawled across the library stairs. For all her bolshiness and anger, she looks shaken. Dark circles ring her eyes.

Buffy says, “Well there won’t be any blowing off patrol from now on. We’ve got to catch whatever did this.”

Setting his research aside, Giles tells her, “I’m afraid that might be whoever.”

“What?”

Gesturing to his book, Giles admits, “The symbol strikes me as ritualistic. Occult. So far, the books concur.” To Faith, who found the bodies while Buffy was finishing off a vampire, he asks, “Was there any paraphernalia at the scene, any markings on the ground?”

She shakes her head. “Just the symbols on their hands.”

Ah. “Yes. That, um, sounds like, well…”

“Witchcraft” Buffy realises.

Faith huffs out a breath that manages to convey mingled disgust and annoyance. “Bout time someone did something about that stuff.”

“Faith” says Buffy, “don’t.”

“What? I’m just saying –”

“So don’t say.”

Faith leans back elbows on the steps behind her and looks down at the floor. Entirely possible, Giles realises, that she misses Angel, as a friend. He had patrolled with the two slayers often enough. Not to mention she is protective of Buffy in her own way, her own way being to demonstrate the opposite not very convincingly.

“Whatever magic we’ve dealt with in the past” Buffy is saying, “whoever did this is someone new.” Turning to Giles, she adds, “We need to know what that symbol means; might tell us where to find them.”

“Find them and do what?” Faith mutters.

For just a moment, Buffy looks unsure, but she replies, “Call the watchers. Call the police, call someone. Make sure they can’t hurt anyone else.” At Faith’s scowl she adds, “Look, I want to kill them too but that’s not what we are.”

“Quite right” Giles agrees. “If they’re human, they’ll be dealt with by human law.”

“Right” Faith grumbles, “because that always works.”

“Best we’ve got” says Buffy. When Faith launches herself upright and stalks out, no-one tries to stop her.

*****

“So who organised all this?” Ethan asks Giles as they edge through the crowd in the city hall.

“Faith and Joyce, as I understand it” Giles replies.

“Because of this murder?” Ethan eyes the photos on the many placards and amends, “murder _s_?”

“Yes” Putting an arm around Ethan’s shoulder, Giles mutters in an undertone, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything?”

“Nothing” Ethan follows Giles’ example and speaks barely above a whisper. “It’s like the demons haven’t noticed it.”

Which would add credence, of course, to the idea that the killer was human. Damn.

Glancing around, Giles notices a few rather large men by the door watching them with menacing expressions. Instinctively, he slips his arm from Ethan’s shoulder. Whispers, “Tell me you’ve not sold anything that could have…”

“Rupert, please. Even I have my limits.”

“Of course. Sorry.” Giles is relieved, rather than otherwise when he catches sight of Buffy. “Oh – there they are.”

Buffy is near the stage, along with Willow, their respective mothers, and Faith. Faith stands a little apart, arms folded, and when Giles and Ethan arrive, she greets them with, “Hey Giles, Eth. Wasn’t sure if you’d show.”

“No” Giles reassures her, “We wanted to, um, see what this was all about.”

“It’s about the children” Joyce tells him firmly.

Faith folds her arms. “Joyce did most of it.”

“You helped” Joyce tells her warmly.

“I guess” Faith eyes the crowd as they mill about and bristle with placards. “More people showed than I thought.” Quieter, she adds, “I never actually organised anything before.”

Buffy says nothing, but looks uneasily at the teaming room. Well might she worry, Giles thinks. Having this number of people following the situation doesn’t bode well for maintaining a secret identity.

Willow, looking equally uncomfortable, steps closer to him and Ethan without apparently realising what she is doing. Ethan greets her with, “Hello, Willow. Is this your mum?” To Sheila Rosenberg he adds, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting the woman who raised this child. Your daughter’s a credit to you Mrs Rosenberg.” Shaking her hand, he adds, “Not that she doesn’t have her more challenging moments – the stories I could tell! But I’m sworn to secrecy, of course.” 

“Mom” Willow is scarlet. “This is Mr Rayne, my Latin teacher. And Giles’…um.”

“Yes” says Ethan, unruffled, “I rather enjoy being Giles’ um.” Turning to Giles, he plants a demonstrative kiss on his cheek.

Mrs Rosenberg looks flustered but manages, “Willow, you didn’t tell me you’re taking Latin.” Before Willow can respond, she turns to Joyce. “I’ve just heard an alarming rumour, Joyce: apparently so-called witches are connected to this crime. You know, I was recently involved in a study into –” At that moment, the Mayor takes the stage, and conversation dies down. Stealing a glance at his companions, Giles sees that Buffy’s unease has grown and Ethan looks tense. Willow seems actively nervous. Faith is also appraising her, but without sympathy or concern.

The mic is soon handed over to Faith and Joyce, who come up to the stage together. Arms still crossed, Faith manages a “Thanks for coming and all” before swallowing audibly and surveying the room, her gaze resting on the little smiling faces on the placards. She adds, “What happened was really shit.” As a few gasps sound, she adds, “Yeah, sorry, but they were kids.” There are a few murmurs of assent and she has the room again. She tells them, haltingly, “I’ve seen a lot. I know there are bad guys out there. But mostly they’re animals. They just…do what they do. But sometimes you meet a real monster. Whoever did this is a real monster. A real one. And we have to find them.” Handing the mic over to Joyce amid applause, she walks off to the side of the platform, where the Mayor gives her a supportive smile and ushers her backstage.

Giles finds he is holding his breath and lets it out in a rush. A slayer standing on stage rallying a mob? It’s as dangerous as it is unprecedented.  He is so flustered that he misses the start of Joyce’s speech, but he finds himself paying attention as she continues, telling the crowd that Sunnydale belongs to “the monsters, the vampires and the witches” before ending with what could very easily be construed as a call to violence.  

Beside him, Ethan shifts closer as the crowd applaud. “Well” he murmurs. “That was something.”

“Totally unfair is what is was” Buffy says, keeping her voice low as the applause dies down and conversations start up. Stepping aside to let Mrs Rosenberg join a group of women a few feet away, she adds, “Well, apart from the monsters and the vampires.”

“But not the witches” Willow squeaks. “I mean, doesn’t she know that I’m…” seeing a nearby middle aged couple turn round, she raises her eyebrows meaningfully and finishes, “vegetarian?”

“I’d think your display of, err, vegetarian cooking at her house party might have been her first clue” Ethan replies as the couple turn back to their companions. To Giles he adds, “Let’s get out of here. Interesting as morbid with a side of bigotry might sound on paper, I’m not actually having fun.”

“Yes, let’s go.” Giles is wondering how whether they can tactfully offer Willow a lift with her mother here, when he sees Faith a little way off, still with the Mayor. For the first time this evening, she is smiling. “Just one moment.”

Approaching his second slayer, he says, “Faith – a quick word?”

“Hey Giles. This is Mayor Wilkins. Mr, um – Do I call you Mr Mayor? – this is Giles. He’s the librarian at school.”

The man smiles a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and shakes Giles’ hand. “Are they all like this little firecracker at Sunnydale High? It’s been so refreshing seeing how enthusiastic Faith is about bringing justice to this situation.”

“Yes. Quite. Faith, can I have a word?”

The Mayor’s smile warms into something genuine as he turns to the girl. “Catch you later, Faith.”

As he merges with the crowd, Faith turns to Giles, folding her arms once again. “Were you being rude on purpose or is it a British thing?”

Giles checks the Mayor is out of earshot before countering, “Need I remind you that someone from the Mayor’s office sponsored the band candy?”

Faith shrugs. “Wasn’t him. He’s nice.” Glancing over to where the politician is talking with what appears to be his staff, she adds, “Might be that guy. He’s shifty.”

“Or he’s nervous” Giles points out.

“Yeah, ’cause he’s talking to the boss man. Doesn’t mean his boss is into occult stuff. You want someone into dark magic and shit, you’ve been standing next to Willow all night.”

“Faith, that’s not fair.” At the slayer’s blank look, Giles adds, “Whatever one practitioner has done, you know Willow isn’t capable of –”

“I don’t know what she’s capable of.”

Before Giles can reply, the Mayor calls over, “Faith, come meet Allan!” and Faith slips away.

*****

Running a business in the midst of a moral panic is virtually undoable. Ethan’s human regulars stay away, presumably out of fear, and his demon regulars are put off by the disconcertingly large number of people who apparently have nothing better to do than hang around Main Street eyeing his establishment. First one muscular man is leaning on the back of a bench opposite and staring and then he has friends, and then a gaggle of youths start drifting past, doubling back, drifting past again. Each sweep becomes less subtle, and then all of them, youths and men, are standing on the pavement opposite looking disconcertingly purposeful.

As for humans just casually dropping in, no-one wants to be seen in the Magic Box today. When he finally does have customers, it is the gaggle of youths. Ignoring his greeting, they look around without touching anything, give each other meaningful glances and then leave again. Peering out the window, Ethan watches them head straight over to the men standing opposite.

The wards are strong, reinforced after Angelus’ visit. But Ethan still doesn’t feel like hanging around here on his own. After casting a quick glamour, he stuffs the money from the cash register into various pockets, slips one of the more valuable book under one arm, tucks his latest bust of Janus under the other and leaves.

Sunnydale’s alleyways seem safer than its streets today, so he tries to stick to these as he makes his way home, but he only gets halfway before the route necessitates walking on a pavement alongside a busier road. Which is blocked by a placard waving mob. Ethan stands on the corner, hidden – for now – by his glamour, and watches what can only be described as an anti-witchcraft rally.

Glamours might hide him, but they only last so long. Besides, he isn’t incorporeal and the crowd is thick. Sighing, Ethan turns around and makes his way to the school instead.

“Ethan!” As soon as he enters the high school, Willow hurries over. “Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Yes and no” Ethan reassures her, adding, “Not the first time I’ve dodged a mob.”

“Mob?” Her brow crinkles.

“Don’t worry – I avoided them and came straight here.”

“Good. Here is good. Well, in a really tense way.”

She’s not exaggerating, Ethan realises as she accompanies him to the library: as she walks, students edge away, giving the girl a fan of space as though she is contaminated. Nasty looks follow them down the hall. As they near the library, Cordelia sweeps past without so much as glancing at them. In the library doorway, Rupert and Buffy are in discussion. Looking up, Rupert exclaims, “Ethan! Is everything alright?”

“Yes, though I might be about to lose another stock to fire.” Ethan slips past and into the library, sets Janus-bust and book on the table and sits down. “The insurance people won’t be impressed. Hello Jenny, Stephen.”

The teachers acknowledge him with half smiles, looking tired. Jenny appears to be doing her paperwork here despite having a classroom of her own and Stephen is looking through one of Rupert’s books.

“People were gathering outside the Magic Box?” Rupert infers.

“And not subtly” Ethan confirms. He waits for Willow and Buffy to step inside and for Rupert to shut the door, before saying, “But really, the wards should take care of it.” Now he’s safe, the anger hits and he blurts out, “Not that they should have to! Why’re everyone behaving like utter prats? What’s magic ever done that they need to run me out my shop?” Taking in their expressions of resignation, he adds, “Well, except for killing those children of course. But that wasn’t me! Why should I suffer?”

There is a silence then, that is eventually filled by Willow asking, “So it really was witches?”

“I’m afraid that’s likely” Rupert replies. “But I think I need to check that book you borrowed.”

Willow glances nervously at Buffy. “Sure. I’ll go get it.”

Buffy asks, “Want me to walk with you?”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

Stephen stands. “I’ll go. I fear this research is a little beyond me.” He hands Ethan the book he was looking through and exits with Willow, leaving Buffy looking worriedly after them.

The book must be something to do with the birthday protection spell, Ethan realises. He’d had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, protection spells are one of the few types of magic Rupert and Buffy will likely be enthusiastic about Willow knowing now, on the other, anything that reminds Buffy about the last time she was gifted with a spell won’t do their friendship any favours. That in mind, he’d pointed Willow to the appropriate rite and left her to it.

But that is hardly the issue right now, with Buffy finally dropping her gaze and pacing, telling Rupert, “I don’t like this. Everyone’s completely…not over reacting because dead kids, but something reacting!”

“Misplacing their anger” Jenny supplies.

“Yeah” Buffy frowns. “Soon no-one with so much as a wiccay pattern on their t-shirt will be safe.”

Jenny tells Ethan, “They’re searching Stephen’s classroom just because I leant him a book about the history of magic. I went and hid my stuff in my car when I heard.”

“It is rather alarming” Rupert concludes.

“And meanwhile” Buffy is still pacing “whoever actually did it is still out there somewhere probably leaving town under the cover of all this crazy!” At that moment, there is some commotion in the hallway, raised voices and a metallic clang. Buffy turns. “I’d better go check no-one’s being beaten up again. I’ll be right back, guys.”  

She leaves them to a worried silence and they all look up when the door opens again. But it’s not Buffy. It’s a gang of three police officers. “Mr Giles?” greets one. “We’re here on orders of the Mayor to conduct a review of the school’s library.” As he speaks, the other officers march past him. They carry ominously empty cardboard boxes.

“Review?” Rupert repeats, and then – as an officer enters the library cage – “Wait, what review? What exactly is going on here?”

Ethan lifts the Janus bust into his lap before grabbing hands can snatch at it, but the book from the Magic Box gets swept up along with the book Stephen handed him. “Wait” he reaches for the former, “That’s not a library book, that’s mine.”

The officer shrugs and packs it anyway, turns away to peel volumes from surrounding shelves.

“Like I said” the officer who led them in is saying, “A review”

Over by the computer, Jenny is telling a third officer, “That’s nothing to do with the library, it’s my lesson plans!”

Rupert, still berating the first officer, seems to be shedding years along with self-control. Ethan would enjoy it if he hadn’t just been robbed. “Give that back.” He tries to inject authority into his voice but it still comes out sounding like a bully stole his lunch money, and the officer, still unpacking the shelf with his back turned, ignores him completely. Ethan snaps his fingers. “Somnum.” Nothing happens. Stupid, unreliable sleeping spell. Or perhaps he’s tapped out from the glamour combined with skipping breakfast, something he definitely won’t be admitting to Rupert later.

The officer glances over. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing. Sneezed.” Once the officer turns back to the shelf, Ethan stands and retrieves his book from the box. Then he pulls out the book Stephen was reading and the others that the officer has packed so far.

“Hey!” The officer by the computer sees what he’s doing, heads over. “Step away from the books or I’ll arrest you for interfering with evidence!”

At that, Rupert heads over, fists clenched. “Evidence?” His voice has that familiar icy, Ripperish quality. “I thought this was a review?”

“A review on whose authority?” asks Jenny. She comes to stand at the officer’s other side, arms folded. Rupert mutters, “The Mayor’s, apparently.” He lifts a few books from the table.

“Alright” Suddenly the officer’s hand is at his holster. “Drop the books!”

Rupert looks baffled. “But they’re books!”

“Drop em!”

Carefully, deliberately, Rupert places the books back on the table and steps away from them, glowering.

The officer’s hand stays resting on his gun. “I need all of you to step away from the table” he instructs. “Leave that” he adds as Ethan reaches for the bust.

Ethan frowns. “But it’s a religious thing.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Oh, will you? In charge of religious liberty in country, are you?” But Ethan steps away from the table without the bust. It is a rather big gun after all. Probably compensating for something.

Jenny is saying, “The Mayor doesn’t have the authority to police school literature.”

“Take that up with the city, ma’am. I’m just here to collect the material.” The officer nods to the space by the counter. “Go stand over there.”

At that moment, Buffy walks in. Joining Rupert and Jenny at the counter, Ethan greets her with, “You took your time.” Then worry catches up with outrage and he adds, “Where’s Willow?”

“Snyder’s office” Buffy keeps her voice low, glancing at the officers. “What’s going on?”

Ethan scowls at the officers. “They’re stealing the books is what.”

Buffy’s eyes widen. “What? Giles, we need those books!”

“Believe me, I tried to tell that to the nice man with the big gun.” Rupert’s aura strums with rage as he watches the more of the occult books being packed up.  Jenny asks, “Why’s Willow in Snyder’s office?”

“For having magic stuff in her locker” Buffy explains. “I managed to get the book off her first and good thing I did ’cause…” She glances at the officers but they are engrossed in their task “…it had the symbol in it. The evil triangle. She says it’s harmless and she used it in a protection spell.”

“Wait” says Ethan, “what symbol is this?”

Buffy, glancing around again, takes some scrap paper and a biro from the counter and sketches it, hands it over. Ethan looks at it. “Yes, that it harmless. Used in a few generalised protection spells.” Aware of the officers behind him, he slips it into his pocket.

Buffy looks doubtful. “Are you sure? What have you been teaching her lately?”

Frankly, Ethan doesn’t like the implication but the principal choses that moment to walk in so he can’t protest until later.

Later finds them in the Magic Box. The shop front has been vandalised and they are still being watched from across the street, but a confusion hex hid their entrance and the wards should prevent a mob of mere humans from attacking them here. Besides, there are books here. There is also a computer, which Jenny and Oz sit at. Xander and Stephen are at the table reading, and Rupert is searching the shelves for more volumes and generally not standing up for Ethan as much as Ethan wishes he would.

“You’re really sure?” Buffy is asking for the umpteenth time.

“Let me think.” Ethan makes a show of stroking his chin. “No, no, I definitely didn’t teach Willow ritual murder. I think I’d remember something like that.”

Rupert finally speaks: “Ethan, this is hardly the time for sarcasm.”

Xander glances up. “Wow, Giles too worried for sarcasm? We really are in trouble.”

“I’m in trouble for sarcasm” Ethan complains, “but Buffy’s not in trouble for accusing me of murder by proxy.”

“I’m not accusing you of that” snaps Buffy, “I just want to know if you’ve taught her anything, I don’t know, related.”

“To murder?”

“All I’m saying that it wouldn’t be the first time Willow got mixed up in something dangerous because you taught her magic!”

“Willow wouldn’t do this.” Oz speaks without looking up from the screen.

“But she might know something about it” Buffy insists. “Something she’s not telling us.”

Jenny glances over. “It is a protection symbol, Buffy. Her story holds.”

“Maybe someone thought they were protecting the kids.” Buffy keeps her gaze on Ethan. “Like Willow thought she was helping me by splitting Angel and Angelus. Maybe it backfired like that did.”

“Buffy” Rupert finally comes over from the selves, handing his slayer a book. “I don’t think Willow could possibly be involved in child murder.”

Xander puts in, “And can I add a big old duh to that? Buffy, you know Willow wouldn’t do this.”

“I’m not saying she did! I’m just saying magic is dangerous and even well meaning spells go wrong.”

“Just because it went wrong for Angel –” Xander begins, but Buffy cuts him off with a glare. Beside him, Stephen glances up and comments, “I don’t think all this fighting is helpful.”

“I second that” says Jenny.

“Yes” agrees Rupert. “Let’s focus.” Directing Buffy to sit with Xander and Stephen, he sits down beside Ethan and murmurs, “Don’t take it to heart. Everyone’s rather tense at the moment.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.” But Ethan lets the matter go and directs his attention to the research. For a time, it seems fruitless, but then Oz and Jenny stumble upon references to similar murders in times past and it occurs to Buffy to ask the children’s names, which, it transpires, no-one knows. Finally, Jenny clicks on an image and they find themselves looking at a lithograph of the same children from centuries ago. Then Rupert starts on about fairy tales. They’re being haunted by sodding Hansel and Gretel. 

This is the moment that a bedraggled young man – boy really – stumbles through the back door. He appears to be in urgent need of both medical care and fashion advice, and Ethan vaguely recognises him as a customer.

Buffy steps towards him. “What happened?”

“I was attacked” he gasps. “I was trying to get to the school and I saw lights on. You guys need to get out – there are people out the front.” As Stephen guides him to a chair and starts to administer bandages from the first aid kit above the counter, a story spills out about parents turning on their children, gangs of men rounding people up. Suddenly it is very important they contact Willow.

“You guys take Oz’s van” Buffy instructs Oz and Xander. They leave immediately, as Buffy turns to Giles. “Can you drive me home? I need to speak to mom, not to mention Faith.”

“Alright” Rupert looks at Stephen. “Can you take Michael somewhere safe? I’m not sure I’d risk staying here longer even with the wards.”

Stephen nods. “He can stay at my place.”

Jenny adds, “I’ll come with you guys. I want to see what the hell these ladies at MOO at thinking.”

“Moo?” asks Ethan blankly.

Buffy scowls. “Don’t ask.”

*****

Consciousness returns to Ethan patchily, leaving him with only a hazy idea of what has happened. They reached Buffy’s house, he knows that much. And then Faith had grabbed Buffy from behind and then someone had hit him, and beyond that it’s just flickers of memory.

And actual flickers. Ethan blinks his vision clear. Fire?

His vision clears and suddenly he is very much awake. And very much tied to a stake amid a pile of books someone just set fire to.

Faith stands in front of the pyre, flaming torch in hand. “Sorry B” she is saying. “I guess there really can be only one slayer. Must have been sharing the glory that sent you over the edge into all this occult crap.”

“Faith, listen to me!” Buffy writhes against her bounds. “This is a spell! Or a – a curse or something! Something’s messing with you!”

“Ah” Ethan presses himself against his stake and tries shifting himself upwards. It doesn’t work. “What’s going on?”

“Figure it out!” yelps Jenny, tied up beside him.

Ethan looks at Joyce, who meets his gaze blankly. “Joyce, what the hell are you doing? Get the fire extinguisher!”

“They’re going to watch aren’t they!” Amy twists against her ropes. “They’re going to watch us burn!”

“Amy stay calm!” Ethan can hear the edge of hysteria in his command. Amy shakes her head. “No. No, I won’t let them do this!” To the crowd she calls out, “You wanna fry a witch? I'll give you a witch! _Goddess Hecate, work thy will! Before thee let the unclean thing crawl!_ ”

“Um” Ethan manages. “Amy –”It is too late of course. Unable to raise her arms and direct her magic, Amy is engulfed by her spell. Or possibly, that was her plan, given that she does escape the flames, which are now growing alarmingly.

“She couldn’t have done us first?”  Buffy whines as Amy scampers through the crowd in rat form.

“Unfortunately not” Ethan struggles against his post. He hopes the poor girl doesn’t get herself eaten or trodden on.

Beyond Buffy, Willow calls out, “You've seen what we can do! Another step and you will all feel my power!”

“Absolutely” Ethan echoes. “Put out the fire or I’ll send it your way!” He could have actually done that, if Rupert hadn’t put a stop to him learning that particular curse. Where is Rupert?

The flames are dancing closer now. The heat is appalling and the smoke is making his eyes itch and his head ache.

“Oh God” groans Jenny. “I almost escaped. I almost got out of this town.” Frantically, Ethan searches his mind for any useful spell he could actually do with no ingredients or props to hand and no hands free. Unfortunately, the only fire magic he knows is on the creative side of things rather than the putting out. Back in the day, Ethan loved a decent fire, a fact that suddenly seems very ironic.

“You can’t do this!” Buffy is turning her head from side to side, shifting her shoulders, trying to get enough leverage to use her strength. Raising her voice she tries, “Mom, Faith, please! You don’t want to do this! You can’t live with this!”

“I can’t take it, Buffy!” Willow groans, “It’s so hot!”

“I’m sorry, Willow” Buffy gasps, still struggling.

Where on earth is Rupert? Ethan winces as the heat grows. He’s fairly certain the sweat dripping off his face is now sizzling before it hits the pyre. From somewhere off to the side he is aware of Buffy saying, “Ethan, I’m sorry I acted like you had something to do with all this.”

“Oh” says Ethan, really not caring very much about that at this moment. Apparently biting back a yelp, Buffy adds, “Kind of hoping for death-bed absolution, here. Well, death-pyre.”

“Really not what I need to hear from the slayer right now” returns Ethan. “Just get us out of here, can’t you?”

“Trying!”

At that moment, the door bursts open and Ethan is faced with salvation in the form of…Cordelia? Oh Gods, but things are desperate.

But then he sees Rupert and finally relaxes. Or at least as much as one can while tied to a stake and catching fire.

Cordelia is directed to put out the fire and, as the heat gives way to a rapid cooling, the situation becomes briefly amusing. Then Rupert casts some counter curse and the dead children Ethan hadn’t seen earlier transform into a large, angry demon. Which isn’t funny when one is still tied up. Fortunately, Faith has come to her senses and guts the thing.

Suddenly Rupert is beside him and Ethan realises with a thrill that he must have casually stomped over the books to reach him. Cutting into the rope he asks, “Are you alright?”

And that’s when Xander and Oz drop from the ceiling.

*****

A reversal spell to, as Buffy puts it, “de-rat” Amy is the easiest thing in the world to pull off, but Ethan hasn’t taught Willow that magic yet. He lets her, Buffy and a cowed Faith struggle with it for a bit before intervening. When he does, Amy is far from grateful. “You were sitting there laughing at them the whole time, you old goat!” She snaps at him. “I was starting to think they’d give up on me.”

Ethan just smiles and mutters a half-hearted apology before adding, “Though you really should think twice before calling me a goat considering the form you were in just now.”

She huffs a little. “You know what? There’s no way I’m coming to your shop again! I’m through with magic!” And out she storms.

Ethan keeps on smiling. If she’s through with magic, he’ll eat his hat and his coat and his melted shoes because no-one is just _through_ with magic just like that. That would be as if they chose magic and not the other way around. And he knows she’ll be back in the shop too, because the next stop down from him is men like Rack.

Amy isn’t that reckless. Surely?

*****

“How’s Faith?” Jenny asks.

“At least acknowledging what happened” Giles replies. “Which is more than I can say for Joyce.” This is, he reflects, possibly down to Faith’s slayer status resulting in the magic affecting her slightly differently. Or the fact that he insisted on a conversation with her about the whole thing, while Joyce and the other parents involved have been free to bury the memory. Regardless, they are all safe now. “As I understand it, Buffy’s given her her chores for the month.”

“She deserves more than that” Ethan joins them at the table, placing a tray of drinks between them. “Almost burning me at the stake is grounds for a trip to England, I’d say.”

“She was under an enchantment, Eth. Let’s not condemn her to Council rehabilitation just yet.”

Taking up his drink, Stephen asks, “Did she learn anything about the Mayor while she was, well…”

“Being his muscle?” Ethan supplies. “Not a damn thing as I understand it.”

“She at least learnt that he knows about the existence of the slayer” Giles tells them. And was keen for one to be murdered and the other firmly under his influence. Little doubt now as to who owes debts to the likes of Lurconis.

“You’ll have your hands full with that” Jenny is saying.

“I’m researching his background. As soon as we know what sort of demon he is…”

“Point the girls at him?”

“Precisely.”

Ethan shakes his head and announces, “Enough of the work talk.” He raises his glass. “Here’s to Jenny finally escaping this hellhole.”

“I won’t be far away” Jenny clinks her glass against theirs. “I’m only going to L.A.”

“Give Angel hell for us, won’t you?” Ethan lifts his glass to his lips.

“Yes” Giles adds. “Don’t let him mope. He could do a lot of good if he put his mind to it.” He says this because it is true and worth saying and not because he actually cares all that much what Angel does now. Some lingering respect for the souled vampire aside, all he really feels about Angel is relief that he is elsewhere.

Stephen says, “Keep in touch, Jenny. And be safe.”

“Oh” Jenny smiles around at them. “You guys have no business telling me to be safe – you’ll still live in Sunnydale!”


	50. Helpless

“And the civilians?” Travers places his empty teacup on the tray and regards Giles closely. It is no secret, of course, that Buffy has friends who know about her calling – Giles has described it all in his dispatches, just as he’s been trained to, for future watchers to learn from.

If that means future slayers might be allowed friends and a life, it will be worth the look Travers is giving him now.

“They’re still involved” Giles admits.

“It’s unconventional, Giles.” Travers says _unconventional_ the way most people would say _perverted_.

“They’re fine young people” Giles defends. As proof of the girl’s brilliance he adds, “Willow is actually teaching a class: computer science, now that Jenny Calendar has left the school.” He doesn’t add that teaching is proving to be a useful distraction from magic. He may be mentioning the scoobies in his dispatches but that doesn’t mean he has included every last detail. The Council have only a hazy idea of Willow’s talents.

“Ah, yes” Travers is saying. “She’s moved to Los Angeles with Angelus, hasn’t she? Have you heard from them?”

“Only briefly. He spends his nights hunting his own kind as I understand it.”

“Do you have an address for him?”

“No” Giles is able to answer honestly.

At that moment, Ethan finally gets in from work. Giles sighs: Not much could have made Quentin Travers’ visit more awkward, but Ethan manages it by sauntering in in that shirt. He would have to be wearing pink today. And of course, he would have to be whistling something by the Clash, although, thinking about it, it seems unlikely Travers will recognise it.

When Ethan sees Travers, his face goes through a quick series of expressions, starting with _Bugger, can I leave without him noticing?_ and ending up at _Get out of my house you old bastard_. Travers, for his part, manages to sour his expression quite a few notches beyond normal human capacity and frown at the same time. “Ah. Rayne. Good to see you’re still around.” Possibly the least sincere greeting since they invented language.

“Likewise. Nice to see you looking so well, Quentin” replies Ethan, robbing the aforementioned least sincere greeting of its crown.

Giles mumbles something about making more tea. He’s blushing and hates himself for it: he should be able by now to defy the squeamishness Council higher ups have about his relationship. This is the nineties after all! He ought to go up to Ethan and give him a good old-fashioned snog right in front of Travers. But instead he just blushes and mumbles and accepts that Ethan will give him the silent treatment over this later.

Addressing the other issue the Council have with his lover, Travers tells Ethan, “I’m told you’re running a magic shop now.”

_Not by me_ Giles wants to add.

“Oh?” Ethan comes further into the room and drapes himself over the back of Giles’ chair like a cat, leaving Giles unable to easily stand up and make tea after all. “Who could have told you that?”

“I had a team of trainee watchers track some black-market Garlyr eggs. Naturally when they reported the eggs were being sold in Sunnydale I thought of you.”

Giles frowns. “Ethan?”

“The Hanol demons buy them” explains Ethan, addressing Travers and squeezing Giles’ shoulder urgently, which Giles takes to mean he should show a united front and act like he knew all along. “I’m sure you’ll agree they make a better snack for them than the local cat population.”

“I see. So you aren’t selling them back to the Garlyr so they can repopulate? Because it seems someone is.”

“And anyone who can help the poor – and I should point out virtually harmless – Garlyr avoid extinction has my respect” returns Ethan. “But the eggs I buy are somewhat frozen.”

And perfectly reviveable, Giles knows. He takes Ethan’s hand and squeezes it just a little too hard, allowing them to appear united while letting Ethan know he’s not amused. Travers and Ethan stare each other out for a long time. Then, abruptly, Travers stands. Pushing the dreaded wooden box of the implements needed for the Cruciamentum towards Giles, he says. “I hope you’ll remember my advice, Rupert. Rayne, you’ll be receiving some Council representatives at your shop over the coming days. I advise you ensure Garlyr eggs are the worst they find.”

“Looking forward to it, Quentin. A pleasure as always.” Ethan runs his free hand provocatively down the side of Giles’ face. Travers stutters, fumbles with his coat, and leaves.

The second he’s gone, Giles and Ethan break apart, Ethan straightening to massage his hand and Giles standing and rounding on him to demand, “Garlyr eggs?”

“Rupert, you’ve left nail marks!” Ethan holds up his fingers.

“Ethan, how long have you been selling Garlyr eggs?”

Ethan clasps his hand. “This is domestic abuse!”

“Oh for Gods’ sake! I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to leave a few tiny dents. Now answer the bloody question!”

“Since I found a supply line.” Ethan shrugs. “I don’t see what you’re upset about, you know Garlyr are harmless.”

“Harmless except on a feast-eve. Then the words ‘rampaging maniacs’ spring to mind.”

“They don’t have a feast due for another forty years. We’ll be probably be dead by then.”

“Some of us more probably than others.”

“Oh, charming, now you’re threatening me!”

“It’s the Hanol who’ll be doing that!”

“Hanol don’t eat anything bigger than a miniature poodle, Rupert, and you know it.”

Giles shakes his head. True, Hanol rarely attack humans to feed but they work for other, nastier creatures. It’s probable the Mayor has a few in his employ. “Hanol are muscle for the masters of the demon world, Ethan, and you know it.”

“Which makes them useful informants, if you ever want to swing by the shop for the latest gossip.” Ethan shrugs again, something he does when he’s caught doing something he knows isn’t likely to find Giles’ favour. “I don’t see what you’re so upset about – most of the eggs go straight back to the Garlyr anyway.”

Giles groans. “And it doesn’t occur to you that the Garlyr might object to you selling some of their offspring to be eaten by Hanol? They’re not harmless when provoked you know!”

“I know what I’m doing, love.” Ethan sits down, still clutching his hand. Relenting, Giles asks, “Are you alright?” He reaches for the appendage.

“I’ll live.” Ethan presents his hand for inspection. “Too bad I have to do it with a brute like you.”

There are no dents in his skin so far as Giles can see; it’s not even reddened. He kisses it better nonetheless and heads towards the kitchen with the tray.

Nodding to the wooden box, Ethan asks, “What’s that?”

Giles snatches it up. “Confidential.”

“Ah. Just like my business affairs until Quentin Bloody Travers announces them to the world.”

“Hardly the world. Just the partner who should have known in the first place.”

“Rupert, it would only have upset you.”

“As will this.” Giles pockets the case. Much as Ethan and Buffy have a somewhat tempestuous relationship, Giles can’t imagine Ethan taking the Council’s side in any matter.

And it goes deeper than that. Ethan wouldn’t like the idea of robbing a mythical figure of power – a sort of magic, almost – that is innately hers. To Ethan, that would seem an affront to the natural order of things. Giles isn’t sure he’s comfortable with it either. Even before he considers how desperately scared for Buffy he is.

Ethan is watching him with growing concern. “You’re not in some sort of danger again, Rupert?”

“No, love.” _I’m_ not, he thinks.

*****

“I’ve, err, I’ve lost my job.”

Giles had imagined all the way home that Ethan would smile or say something like “about time” or demand they leave for London straight away. But Ethan only stands up from the sofa and walks over, takes his hands and guides him to sit. Sitting down beside him, Ethan asks, “What happened?”

Giles tells him everything. He even meets his eyes for some of it.

When he’s done, Ethan finally says one of the things Giles expected: “Well, screw ’em. You were always too good for them.”

“So you’ve been known to say. But still…” Still this was his calling. His destiny.

Except it wasn’t. Buffy was. Is.

Almost as though he can read Giles’ thoughts (and Giles wouldn’t put it past him sometimes) Ethan sighs and says, “We’re not going home, are we?”

“No love, I’m afraid not. There’s still work I have to see to.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed. I won’t even have a shot at the dependents’ compensation if you die now.”

“…Thank you, dear. I love you too.”

*****

Retribution, of course, doesn’t stop there. Giles knew it probably wouldn’t, but even he is a little taken aback when it arrives and when it is quite this cruel.

“You’re being deported?” Buffy asks Ethan, horrified. “How?”

“By plane, I imagine.” Ethan, who is now slouched on the sofa with his arms folded, has reacted with tearful shock, nearly-murderous rage (some talking down was required), hysterical panic and rather a lot of taking it out Giles over the last few hours and has now arrived at a state of nonchalance and seems annoyed when anyone else reacts at all.

“But” Buffy manages, “But how could they do that? Don’t you like, have a visa because of Giles’ green card or something?”

“Do I look like his wife?” Ethan replies coolly.

Buffy stares at him. “Wow. I’m sorry Ethan. That really sucks.” She turns to Giles. “What about you? Do you have to leave?”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Oh, he’s fine. Still allowed to stay.”

“Why’d they kick Ethan out and not you?”

“They want me to make a choice” Giles admits. _And they want to remind me they still can_.

“So he chose” Ethan sounds like he’s speaking through gritted teeth.

Buffy studies Giles, realisation clouding her face. “You’re…You’re staying here?”

Ethan mutters, “We have a winner.”

“Ethan” Giles reaches for him but Ethan shuffles sideways out the way. “You know that between us we can get this sorted.” To Buffy, he adds, “If it turns out we can’t, that’s another matter.” He’d have to go home then. He can’t have Ethan permanently stranded on the other side of the Atlantic without him.

“Of course” Buffy agrees.

Her face is still covered in bruises. Their few interactions in the days since the Cruciamentum have been strained but the fact Buffy is speaking to him at all is, Giles knows, more than he deserves, and reason enough to stay. If he were to leave, even temporarily, so soon after hurting her, she might never trust him again.

Faith, it seems, already won’t trust him again, if she ever did. She responded to recent events with mute horror and has been restless and standoffish ever since.

Gods know who the Council will send as his replacement, but they are likely to be even less capable than him of reaching out to the girl. She was already shaken by being taken in by the faux-murders and now this has come so soon after it. Yet again, Giles curses himself for not refusing to take part in the Cruciamentum sooner, say before it had started.

Buffy asks Ethan, “How soon will you be back?”

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” is the reply. Ethan sounds shaky again, so Giles quickly adds, “I’ve got an old friend from Wellington who works in the embassy now, not to mention there are those at the Council who might be persuaded to see sense. And I’m sure Ethan has contacts too.”

At this, Ethan quirks an eyebrow thoughtfully and Giles doesn’t dare ask what his contacts might do to, say, Travers’ car. To Buffy he adds, “It will be fine. Ethan will be back with us by summer.”


	51. The Zeppo

Answering his new phone, Ethan greets whoever is calling with, “Hello? Oh, bugger.” Removing the device from his ear he studies its newly golden case. Damn Midas hex had better wear off soon; he’s getting hungry. Behind him, two business types run past, one screaming and the other laughing hysterically.

A tinny sound issues from the phone. Realising that it’s still working, Ethan raises it again. “Sorry. Rayne here.”

“Ethan?” It’s Xander. Ethan honestly hadn’t expected him to be his first caller and he reflexively asks the boy, “Is Rupert alright?”

“What? Um, yeah, he’s fine. Look, I’m calling from the Magic Box. Willow wanted me to tell you she’s sorry she had to borrow her key back but they need supplies and Giles had to go, um, somewhere else.”

Ethan frowns, then yelps as a fleeing man crashes into him from behind. The phone hits the ground and spins across the pavement, coming to a stop against a solid gold bollard. Cursing, Ethan instinctively puts his hands up to stop the man falling against him, only remembering the hex after the fact.

“Oh” he says to the resulting golden statue of a running man. “Sorry about that. It’ll wear off in an hour or so.” He retrieves the phone in time for Xander to conclude, "...so it's kind of chaotic here."

"Um. Yes, I see." Ethan glances around at a crash close by but sees nothing.

Xander asks, "Ethan? Are you okay?"

"What?" Ethan manages. "Oh, fine. Nothing much happening."

"Just tea and crumpets, right?"

"Something like that."

"Sounds kinda nice." The boys sighs. Then he asks, "So what do you think I should do?"

Ethan frowns. "Do? Um...well, whatever you think best, Xander. You need to trust yourself more."

Apparently this catch-all advice passes muster because Xander replies, "Thanks. I think I just need to stay calm."

“Yes." Ethan tries to sound encouraging. He asks, "So Willow’s in the Magic Box now?”

“She just left. I’m gonna lock up but she wanted me to call first.”

“I see.” Ethan glances round as man in a suit wanders past, bending to pick up litter and delighting as it goes gilded in his hands. Poor bastard will be left with an armful of crap before long and Ethan would like to be elsewhere when that happens, so he exits the side street and heads back towards Bank station, sidestepping a pair of wrestling men, whose suits and hair are crinkling with gold foil beneath one another’s grasps. He asks, “But everything’s alright, um, aside from all that yes?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just standard Sunnydale stuff. I hope.”

“You hope?” Spotting his employers’ car up ahead, Ethan ducks into another side street. With any luck, the offices the group wanted emptied were all emptied, but it is fair to say the distraction turned out to be a little more distracting than they had perhaps envisioned. Best to avoid a second meeting just in case.

“Yeah” Xander says, sounding as far away as he is. “Look, I’d better go. The guys will be wanting me to drive them soon.”

All Ethan can really gather from that is, “You have a car?”

“My uncle’s. Like I said, I’d better go. Willow sends her love. And Giles would, I guess, it’s just he didn’t know I’d be calling you.”

Ethan skirts around a man sitting cross-legged on the pavement with his hands firmly planted on the shining ground, apparently trying very hard not to move. “Well next time you see him, tell him to try ringing my mobile so I actually get the call. We keep missing each other because he’s so scared of my Nokia. Does he know Willow was in the Magic Box?”

“Yes, they needed something for this, um, actually, I don’t know all the details. I’d better go, the guys are calling.”

“I see. Well, bye, Xander. Don’t go crashing your uncle’s car, will you.”

“Oh, so very low down on my list of concerns right now. Bye Ethan.” The dial tone heralds the end of the call. Mentally shrugging, Ethan slides the phone back into his pocket, being careful not to touch the fabric. Silk lining never quite goes back to normal after transmogrification.

He looks around. Aside from the little matter of inadvertently hexing himself, the spell has been a tremendous success. Mingled laughter and shrieks fill the air and the surroundings glitter pleasingly. People hurry in no particular direction like gas atoms, each on their sperate, frantic trajectory paths. Ethan judges that his work here is done.


	52. Bad Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 3 episode 14, Bad Girls, written by Doug Petrie.

The library office is dark but Ethan –exhausted and jet lagged – is grateful for that, and more grateful still to make out the seated figure hunched over the desk, silhouetted by a slide viewing plate. Approaching from behind, Ethan strokes the figure’s shoulder with one hand and runs the other through the hair and down the side of the obscured face. Purrs, “Hello, Ripper.”

The figure shoots up with a cry of, “Do you mind!?”

Ethan scrambles back. “Fuck!” A light turns on. Recovering himself, Ethan stares at decidedly-not-Ripper who stares back at him. The stranger’s hand is still on the light switch and he looks as though he rather wishes it was a panic button. “Sorry” Ethan manages. “Thought you were Rupert. Where is, by the way?”

“Ah” The man detaches himself from the switch and dusts himself down. “You must be the chaos mage.” He smooths his hair and rearranges his expression from unnerved to superior.

“That would be me” Ethan glances around. Rupert’s stuff is still here, though a few new books sit alongside the slide viewer on the desk. In leaping up, the stranger scattered slides and now tiny illustrations of demons wink up from various surfaces. “And you are?”

“Wesley Wyndam-Price” The stranger draws himself up to full height. “Watcher”

“Oh” Ethan examines the man with renewed interest. Young, besuited and with far too much of some product or other in his hair, he barely looks cut out for a night on the Cowley Road – where, no doubt, his student accommodation was located just last year – let alone the hellmouth.

And he’s a Wyndam-Price, which doesn’t bode well for his being remotely not up himself but will at least make shocking him both easy and fun.

Poor Rupert must be beside himself.

Wyndam-Price – Wesley – asks, “I thought you were in London?”

“I was until yesterday.”

New boy slips back into flustered. “But I thought the plan was that you would stay there and Mr Giles would join you?”

“Really? Whose plan would that be then?”

Before Wesley can respond, the door opens. “Ethan?” Rupert blinks at him from the doorway. Before Ethan can think of anything fitting to say, Rupert has crossed the space between them and he’s engulfed.

Buried in Rupert’s embrace, Ethan can hear Wesley off to the side saying, “Mr Giles, if you insist on remaining in the area, could you at least keep your chaos mage from molesting me?”

Ignoring his replacement, Rupert pulls away to examine Ethan. “How are you back so soon?”

“Soon?” Ethan retorts. “The time might have flown by for you but I’ll have you know it felt like years for me.”

“Yes, Ethan, I missed you terribly too” Rupert clarifies patiently. “But how were you able to come back?”

“Well they granted me a visa after all records of my alleged misdemeanours vanished and those in charge of keeping them couldn’t remember who I was” Ethan explains. “It’s almost as though someone taught magic to a computer hacker.”

Wesley says, “I’ll have to report this to the Council.”

“You do that” Ethan tells him. “Only, give us a moment, could you? I haven’t seen this man in the flesh for a month so I’d rather like to see him in more of it.”

Wesley stammers and blushes and is saved by Rupert saying, “Ethan, this is a school – come on.” He steers Ethan out of the office, and then out of the library. Only once they’re outside in Sunnydale’s relentless warmth does he ask, “You molested Wesley?”

“I thought he was you. In my defence, it was the flight from hell. Well, to hell.”

“I see. Probably best you get home then; I’ll finish up here and come join you.”

“Oh, so you’re standing me up for him?”

“I am still the school librarian, Ethan. I can’t just walk out in the middle of the day.”

“Not even for lunch?”

“Yes, for lunch, but it is still only second period. I’ll see you later.” Rupert kisses him gently. “It really is wonderful to see you.”

*****

“Ethan!” Willow gifts him with a hug almost as strong as Rupert’s. He should, Ethan thinks, go away more often if this is how happy people are when he’s back.

Breaking the hold, Willow asks, “How’d you like my digital cantrap?”

“Inspired” Ethan tells her. “And very much appreciated.”

“I had to call Miss Calendar for some of it. So it was totally adult supervised. So I don’t get a big ol’ lecture about controlling things with magic, right?” Her tone is jokey but her eyes are serious.

“Oh, this is hardly control” Ethan decides. “You were just doing a favour.” He likes to think that putting him back into play makes the situation less controlled if anything.

“Right. Anyway, I couldn’t exactly do all the history and theory lessons by email. So, have you met Wesley?”

“Yes, I’ve had the dubious pleasure.” Noting Willow’s frown, Ethan adds, “If it’s any comfort, I imagine something will eat him before long.”

“I hope not. But also, I don’t want to be around for when Buffy and Faith meet him.”

“They haven’t yet?”

Willow shakes her head. “He arrived this morning. Are they all like that except for Giles?”

“He’d tell you no. I tell you oh God yes. So” Ethan sets off towards the exit, Willow walking at his side, “what’s else is new?”

“Well, me and Amy have been casting together – just little stuff. And we stopped an apocalypse – scooby us, I mean, not me and Amy us. But give us time, you know? Oh – and I got into Harvard! And Yale and Wesleyan. Early admission.”

“Willow, that’s wonderful!”

“I’m still not sure where I’ll go” she crinkles her expression into self-conscious puzzlement. “There’s this German college too – Braunschweig. But I’m not sure about being in a different country for all of college.”

“Why not? I thought you wanted to travel.”

“Travel, yes, but being all expatty for four years? That’s a big step. But then, I guess so is college anyway. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Well I vote Germany over Connecticut, Massachusetts and wherever Wesleyan is.”

“Connecticut too. But my college choice? Not a democracy. And Connecticut’s only not exciting for you because New England probably doesn’t seem all that new to someone from actual England.”

“Oh, don’t get me started on actual England” Ethan dismisses. “Freezing cold, wet and currently in the throes of a sad lack of Rupert. I’m actually very happy to be back here in Sunnyhell.”

“Good, well I’m happy you are too.”

*****

Giles takes his lunch break early, finding that the combined push factor of Wesley at the library and pull factor of Ethan at home ensures he can’t wait any longer. Stepping through the door, he burrows into Ethan’s embrace and they are shirtless and necking on the sofa before Giles – much to Ethan’s displeasure – comes to his senses.

“You’re no fun anymore” Ethan tells him from where he’s still sprawled.

“I’m sorry, Ethan” Giles opens the fridge and pulls out a few items at random, “but I do need to actually eat before I go back to work.”

“It’s called a quickie for a reason, Rupert.”

“You have a history of making these things last.”

“Well excuse me if I want to give you a good time” Ethan rolls his eyes before offering, “Look, I’ll be good. I promise to go straight for the finish line, no sensual meanders or sentimental lingerings whatsoever. Unless we try out that new –”

“No. I’m not trying out anything new and then going back to work.”

“No-one would be able to tell. I bet Wesley hasn’t even heard of a –”

“And with mention of that name, I’ve completely lost my drive.”

“Bugger.”

“Not today.”

Ethan gives him a don’t-try-to-be-clever look and replies, “Are you sure you find him that repulsive? I think the gentleman doth protest too much. He could be very fun to lead astray.”

“He’d be all too easy to lead astray” Giles mutters darkly. Of all the stuffed suits the Council could send, they’ve managed to send a flailing, overcompensating, barely adult snob who embodies everything that is wrong with the training programme. Wesley wouldn’t know evil unless it walked up to him in what Buffy calls vamp-face. Anything short of that and Wesley wouldn’t know what to do or, worse, would find the allure of the subtle, charming strain of evil liberating after years of self-erasing study. “He’s not prepared. I can’t believe they didn’t send someone more experienced.”

Ethan shrugs. “Maybe the more experienced didn’t want to get off their arses. Or maybe they don’t like the boy.”

“I can’t think why.” Giles returns to the living room with a picnic of bread, cheese and fruit that he sets on the coffee table with two plates.

Two plates. Giles smiles.

He knows he should be worried by yet another of Willow’s forays into magic, but it’s hard to, when having Ethan back is the result.

Mistaking the source of the smile, Ethan asks, “Want to take bets on what does him in?”

“I’d rather keep an eye on him.” Thinking of Wesley is easier than thinking of Willow, a more straightforward worry.

“Oh, yes, keeping an eye on the younger model who took your job. No scope for self-torment there at all.”

“Until they see the need to send someone who actually knows what they’re doing, I don’t have much choice in the matter. Besides, his cover story is that he’s assistant librarian. I’ll see him every day.”

A comforting arm snakes over his shoulder. “You’ll see me every day too” Ethan tells him.

“Yes. I will, won’t I?” They kiss again, lunch forgotten.

*****

“Rupert” Ethan keeps his voice low and tucks himself firmly into a doorway in case anyone stepping out the bite house see him with his mobile out.

“Ethan, where are you?”

“I went to see how the shop’s been doing, and then Marvin came by so we went out for a drink.”

“So much for seeing you.”

Ethan rolls his eyes and lets a little exasperation into his tone. “I needed to catch up with the underworld, Rupert, or they’ll not take kindly to me asking questions next time I need to.”

“Such charming friends you’ve got.”

“Oi, your friends produce offspring like Wesley, you can’t judge my –”

“–Roger Wyndam-Price is not my friend –”

“– Besides, I’ll see you tonight and we can try out that new –”

“– I feel we’re being side tracked” Rupert declares. “Was there a particular reason you called, or is this just drunken affection?”

“How’d you know I’m…never mind. I called because” Ethan glances around and lowers his voice again “I’ve just heard about some big name demon bringing an army of sword wielding vampires to town.”

“Balthazar? He’s alive?”

“Injured, apparently. Looking for some amulet that’ll restore him to full strength.”

“Damn. Wesley’s got it.”

“Ah”

“I’ll call Buffy. I don’t suppose you know where he is?”

“Oh! I know this one. A warehouse, somewhere called Denver Row? Devereau? Devereau sounds right. Listen, I’d better get back inside or they’ll start to wonder.”

“Alright” Rupert doesn’t sound happy. “Go back in for appearance’s sake and then get yourself home as soon as possible. No point you returning only to be eaten on your first night back.”

*****

Between catching up on orders to the Magic Box, a night out with Marvin and Rupert – understandably – not trusting Wesley alone with either the library or charge of the slayers, Ethan has seen less of his fiancé than he’d like in the days since his return. So when he gets home the following evening to find Rupert has left a message saying he is staying late at the library while Buffy and Faith go after Balthazar, Ethan is moved to chance Sunnydale’s night time streets to head over and join them. With any luck, he’ll be able to persuade Rupert away or at least have a turn winding up Wesley.

A good thing he does, because he arrives at the school in time to see them being dragged out by uniformed, sword-wielding vampires. Pressing himself against a wall as far from the outside lighting as he can edge, Ethan is unable to do anything but watch. Wesley is struggling in a panicked, ineffectual way and Rupert appears to be unconscious. Damn it.

As soon as the vampire’s vehicle has screamed out of the school car park, Ethan is away too, running to the Magic Box where he upturns several boxes in the basement, grabbing ingredients for various defensive spells before casting a quick location spell to find the slayers.

They have split up. Buffy is closest. Ethan runs.

*****

Of all the ways the hellmouth could be the death of him, Giles reflects, he never expected it to settle on anything quite so repulsive as the partially submerged demon before them. Grunting happily as it lifts the amulet above its head, it looks ferocious enough without being at full strength. Around the pool, the vampires take up chanting in a language Giles doesn’t recognise.

Wesley is all but pissing himself beside him. “Oh God! Oh God.”

“I can’t believe you had the damn thing in your pocket” Giles mutters.

“I thought he was dead!”

Privately, Giles has to concede that he himself could have taken charge of the amulet – would have done if he’d realised Wesley would walk around with the thing on him. But if Wesley’s defence has a point, it is a moot one. Here they are now. The chanting picks up in volume. “What language is that?”

“Oh! Um…Cresrutarian, I think” Wesley stares around at the vampires. “It’s a sub dialect of Ancient Cresrunoor.” He swallows convulsively. “I don’t suppose we could at least hope that the amulet might be faulty – oh. Or not. Oh God.”

Following his gaze, Giles can do nothing but stare, transfixed, as Balthazar _grows_.

*****

Ethan arrives in the alley Buffy was heading towards so out of breath he can barely get words out. “Buffy” he gasps as she appears, “Rupert, they…Balthazar’s…” Ethan gasps again and puts his hands on his knees.

“Ethan, what is it?” Buffy puts a hand to shoulder and withdraws it again quickly.

Ethan gestures back the way she came. “Rupert…Balthazar’s vampires took…” He straightens up, taking a deep breath. “They dragged him out the library.” He makes an effort to compose himself, tugging at his jacket, which is somewhat dishevelled from the run.

He freezes when he encounters the red handprint Buffy left on the shoulder. “Tell me that’s not yours.”

Buffy looks transfixed by the mark. “It’s not mine.” Somehow, there is a lot in what she doesn’t say. For a moment, Ethan is worried about Faith, or at least worried in an if-Faith-is-hurt-she-can’t-help-Rupert sort of way. He almost asks, but reasons that Buffy would look more horrified if Faith was hurt, would have said something and besides, he has one slayer, that should be enough to save Rupert. “We have to hurry” he tells her and Buffy nods, asks him: “Do you have weapons?”

“I have herbs, crystals and a wooden cat.”

“That’ll have to do.”

*****

At full strength, Balthazar is twice the size he started at. The pool popped like a pod at some point during the chanting, and now a pool of water and match-like planks of wood are visible around the slug-like expanse of muscle and flesh that flows beneath the demon’s torso.

“Bring them closer” a deeper voice than before commands. On either side of Balthazar’s mouth, his tusks have grown and sharpened. They quiver dangerously.

As he is dragged forward, Giles finds himself greeting the monstrosity with, “If you’re planning on asking me to scrub those hard to reach areas, I’d like to request you kill me now.” All he achieves is a smack to the head, of course, but it’s worth it. Some long-buried street fighting instinct has shifted to the fore of his mind and under its influence he reasons that if he can’t fight the bastards he may as well annoy them.

If Ethan were here, Giles suspects he’d be impressed by the approach. Thank God Ethan is not here.

Balthazar balls his fist and brings it down on the overhead pipe work, easily within his reach now. After taking a moment to apparently savour the resulting spray of water, he bellows, “What are you waiting for? Kill them! Kill them now!”

Wesley screams. Giles struggles all he can but it is futile – there are at least three vampires grabbing at him now and all he can do is headbutt the closest one. It growls in response and…sprouts fur? Giles stares. Around him, swords clatter to the ground and fingers uncurl from his arms and hit the ground with the soft thud of big paws. In a matter of seconds, he and Wesley are surrounded not by vampires but by tigers.

There is a moment of stunned silence. Then, from some hidden corner of the room, a familiar refrain – “Bugger” – is followed by Buffy’s voice: “How’s that supposed to help?”

“No!” Balthazar roars. “This is unacceptable!” He slithers in the direction of the voices, the empty crates that litter the warehouse breaking in his wake.

Stepping automatically forward to distract the demon from Buffy and Ethan, Giles pauses when the tigers growl. Beside him, Wesley wails and he realises that there never was complete silence – Wesley was always screaming. “Pull yourself together” Giles snaps “and help me fight these things.” To his surprise, Wesley shuts up.  Hands still bound, Giles kicks out at one of tigers, which immediately falls back, setting off a domino effect of yowls and growls as it crashes into others. Reaching sideways with his bound hands, Giles grabs a fistful of Wesley’s shirt. Buffy is visible now, darting about and confusing Baltazar, who crashes into the walls with a force that rattles the building. Two bound men, only one of whom isn’t an utter prat, will not be useful to her, so Giles falls back, out the way of the battle, pulling Wesley with him. He heads for the far wall, unable to do more than watch helplessly as Balthazar lunges at Buffy. She is too quick for him as she ducks and weaves, but she is also inadequately armed for such a goliath.

As the sound of battle fills the building, the tigers scatter like so many housecats. But they have limited space to flee, unwilling to run past Balthazar to the exit and unable to escape any other way. Panicked, some start clawing at each other while others attempt to mount the crates, the shelving, the walls. One barrels past Ethan who leaps out its way, yelping, “Nice kitty!” Joining them, he adds, “I’m sorry Rupert, I specifically said kitten when I ordered the conduit for this spell. Look” He pulls a carved wooden model from his pocket “Doesn’t this look like a kitten to you?”

“Ethan, the sword!”

“Oh, yes.” Retrieving a fallen sword, Ethan attempts to free them with a sawing motion.

“What are you…Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Ethan, swing it!”

“But I don’t want to hurt y –”

“Now!”

The moment he’s free, Giles slashes Wesley’s ropes in half and turns to Balthazar. The roaring demon is still darting about after his slayer and though Buffy, sword in hand, has drawn blood here and there, this is not a battle she can finish unprepared.  Nor can she – or any of them – get out that way with the demon blocking the exit.

Turning to Wesley and Ethan, Giles says, “We need to find a way out.”

“Excellent plan” Ethan agrees. Wesley says, “But – the slayer – maybe I should –”

“Help? You’ve done enough. This – where’s Ethan?” His partner, there just a second ago, is no longer visible. “Ethan?” Raising his voice, Giles calls again, “Ethan!” before he picks his Ethan’s voice out from amidst the scrambling that is audible from around the side of the shelving that segments a portion of the warehouse. Dragging Wesley with him, Giles rounds the shelves to find that Ethan has located and opened the fire exit. So far, so useful, but Ethan’s escape plan has now devolved into essentially holding the door open for the tigers which, scenting the night air, are pouring out before he can edge through.

“Yes” Ethan is saying to one, “After you, by all means.”

“Ethan, don’t let them out!” Giles attempts to pull a tiger away from the door by the scruff of it’s neck but quickly releases it as its full weight registers.

“Really” Ethan replies, “I think of all the things unleashed tonight a few tigers are the least of our worries.”

Giles senses Wesley wither beside him. He tells them, “Fine. The two of you get out. Go and find Faith. I’ll help – Buffy!”

His slayer is racing towards them from around the corner. “Guys” she calls, “Run!”

“But” Giles manages, “Balthazar –” Before he can finish, Buffy has him around the waist and is hauling him out the door. Giles is only vaguely aware of her grasp being replaced by the lift of a ferocious rising heat and of being briefly airborne, before they are all on the ground.

Struggling upright, Giles looks around. Ethan and Wesley are sprawled on the concreate, more or less unhurt, metres from the now-burning warehouse. The tigers’ growls diminish as they flee into the night and Buffy picks herself up and gestures to the flames. “Blew him up” she explains.


	53. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 3 episode 15, Consequences, by Marti Noxon.

“I really need to learn that on the spot casting isn’t my thing” Ethan admits half an hour later. They are back in the flat, Rupert and Buffy sitting at the dining table in a little watcher/slayer bubble that Wesley, still cowed into silence, doesn’t seem to have noticed yet. On the TV, local news is showing the tigers being rounded up by animal control. The authorities are assuming that some exotic animal smuggling ring got themselves blown up in a gas leak on Devereau, but despite that, the tone of the piece is light, the news anchors apparently happy to have something to report on other than disappearances, murders and neck rupture. Ethan examines the wooden conduit again. “I could swear it said kitten on the website.”

“How long with the transformation last?” asks Wesley from the sofa. He scrapped his face against the ground in the explosion and is now clutching a wad of antiseptic wipes to his head.

“As long as this does.” Ethan sets the wooden model on the mantlepiece and joins him on the sofa, helping himself to a wipe from the pack on the coffee table to dab at a bleeding elbow.

Buffy and Rupert fared better. Well, that or they are both a little tougher than him and Wesley, which is entirely possible. But either way, they have moved beyond the administration of first aid and are discussing the events of the evening. Buffy is saying, “…and then I realised he’d knocked through the gas main and I remembered that fuse box he’d thrown me into earlier and…”

“It’s rather odd when you think about it” Wesley comments, with the air of one who’d rather think about anything other than the events of the evening. “A chaos mage preferring the sort of magic one needs to be organised to perform.”

Stung, Ethan retorts, “I use order to serve Chaos.”

“Something that I imagine always tends to work out well as it did tonight.”

“What I did tonight isn’t your concern; shouldn’t you be worrying about how to explain Balthazar’s rising to the council?”

Wesley pales a little. “I had it on good authority that he was dead.”

“I’m sure that same good authority will be very forgiving.” But Ethan is already on his feet and headed for the drinks cabinet. Returning, he offers Wesley a scotch. “Welcome to the hellmouth, Wes, where nothing stays dead.”

Wesley accepts the proffered drink and knocks it back.

“You guys are boozing it up?” Buffy has come over and eyes the bottle in Ethan’s hand with a passing interest.

“It’s a good antiseptic” Ethan explains.

“Isn’t antiseptic a good antiseptic?” She watches Ethan pour a few more glasses. “And isn’t that if you put it on your skin?” Perhaps she is not as unscathed as she seemed at first: though she isn’t visibly hurt, she is pale, her voice toneless and quiet.

“You’ll not go wasting this on your skin” Ethan pushes a glass towards her. “Here”

“She’s underage, Ethan” Rupert reminds him, but he needn’t have bothered: Buffy is already backing away with a murmured, “I’m good, thanks.”

“What?” Ethan frowns. “We just defeated a plus-size demon, I say we should celebrate.”

“ _Buffy_ just defeated a demon _he_ let rise.” Rupert glowers at Wesley who seems to fold in on himself. Behind him, Buffy mutters, “Not really in a celebratey mood.”

Drawing himself up, Wesley tries, “Really, Mr Giles, it could have happened to anyone, and if the slayers had taken the time to find out that Balthazar was alive instead of going out dancing –”

“Don’t you dare put this on Buffy and Faith –” Rupert takes a menacing step forward and Ethan steps neatly in front of him. “Rupert, sit down and have drink. You’ll never be able to stand working with this git if the two of you don’t get bladdered together as soon as possible and I don’t want to spend the next few months listening to you winge about him.”

“I am not getting bladdered with this simpering dullard!”

“You know what” Buffy speaks before Wesley, red faced and indignant, can respond, “I’m going to go home and leave you guys to your really weird bonding.” She crosses the room. “I’ll –” she swings the door open. “Mom!”

“Buffy” Joyce stands on the doorstep, fist raised to knock. “There you are, I was worried. I know this sounds ridiculous but we had a tiger in the garden and –”

“Well, you’re here now. And I’m fine. I don’t suppose you brought the car?”

“I did. I drove Faith over.” Joyce steps aside to reveal Faith, who stands behind her, arms folded, eyes downturned. Putting a hand to the girl’s shoulder, Joyce adds, “She needs to talk to Mr Giles.”

*****

Faith was clearly reluctant to come here in the first place, but Joyce has caught her scrubbing bloody clothes in the Summers’ basement sink, quite literally red handed. Added to that is the confession that comes tumbling out of Buffy when asked by her watcher – former – and mother if something happened on patrol.  

Buffy looks so devastated you’d think it was her who had plunged the stake into a human heart. Faith, conversely, speaks of the misadventure in a way Giles wouldn’t talk about a sombre death scene in a play. The man got in the way, she insists, and there was nothing she could have done.

She may well be right. But that is hardly the point.

Of course, none of this is new. Throughout history, civilians have perished at the hands of slayers, sometimes deliberately, more often – thankfully – by tragic mistake. The Council have developed inevitably impersonal mechanisms for dealing with such matters, none of which will nurture Faith’s already limited trust in either authority or her own humanity. Giles finds his gaze drawn to Wesley while Joyce and Buffy coax Faith to talk. The man is practically a walking handbook. No hope he won’t call the retrieval team.

“He was a bad guy anyway” Faith mutters. “Works for the Mayor – haven’t you guys been all over this the-Mayor-is-evil thing?”

“Mayor Wilkins is evil?” Joyce asks.

“Faith” Giles says, “that’s hardly the point. He was human. You need to accept responsibility for –”

“For what?” The slayer glares at him. “We were in the thick of things and the guy jumps in. Not my fault.”

“A slayer” Oh Gods, but does Wesley have to speak to the girls in that grating imperious tone? “must have impeccable reflexes. You should be ready to avoid any stray civilians.”

“Hey, what was that stray civilian even doing there with all those vamps, huh? Not a guy to lose sleep over so far as I can see.”

Wesley frowns. “Could you have subconsciously recognised him and made a split-second decision that he was an enemy?”

Faith folds her arms sulkily. “There was no split second anything, alright? One minute we were dusting vamps, the next minute he was jumping out at me.” She looks down at her lap. “Like you could have done better.”

“I” Wesley declares, “am not the slayer.”

“Yeah, well, I am. Which means I gotta deal with things you have no idea about so where’d you get off telling me what to do? I save people all the time and you’re giving me a hard time about this one guy?”

There is a silence then, and Giles reflects that with that little declaration Faith has just put herself at a disadvantage ahead of the inevitable tribunal.

Gently, Buffy asks, “What was his name?”

“I dunno” Faith shrugs elaborately, not meeting her gaze. “Only met him the once.” She shifts, picks at the skin on the back of her hand. “Kind of a dweeb.” Suddenly, she stands, in a sweeping motion that underlines her strength. “Look, if you guys are done with this little intervention, I’m kind of beat. I’m going home.”

“Really?” Joyce sounds unnerved under her stern tone, “and who do you think is driving you?”

Another shrug. “I’ll walk.” And with that, Faith is gone.

After a stunned pause, Buffy murmurs, “Mom, we should catch her up.”

Joyce glances at Giles, who hastily adds, “Yes, good idea. I imagine she’ll need –” He stops himself. He doesn’t have to imagine. “She needs to know you still care about her.”

Buffy nods, and she and Joyce head out, leaving Giles and Ethan with only Wesley in their living room.

Immediately, the man bristles. “Well! Can you believe the way she was talking?”

“She’s a frightened child who can’t face up to the fact she just took a human life” Giles reflects wearily. “So, yes, I can believe it.”

“Frightened or frightening?” murmurs Ethan.  “Because I don’t know about you, but I heard her say she gets to casually decide who lives and who dies.”

A part of Giles rather wishes he hadn’t reminded Wesley of that, but there’s no denying it needs addressing. “She didn’t make any decision about this poor chap. She just can’t cope with what’s happened and it makes things easier for her if she acts as though her mistake might have been justified. Really, she’s drowning.”

For a moment, Randall flickers between them so tangibly, he might as well be in the room with his mascara and his too-big jacket. Ethan looks as though he has a lot to say, but what he settles on, leaning sideways to address Wesley over Giles’ shoulder, is, “I hope you’re not calling long distance.”

Giles turns and takes the phone from Wesley. “Don’t.”

Wesley looks affronted. “I’ll pay for the call, but is that really the prio –”

“You get the Council involved and you’ll just push her further away” Giles tells him. “The very last thing the girl needs is –”

“Expert help? Guidance from the men and women who’ve been supporting the slayer for time immemorial?”

“They’ll render and try her, and punish her as they see fit. It’s the last thing she needs.”

“It’s what we all need, unless we want an out of control slayer running amok” Wesley eyes Giles. “Though perhaps you do.”

“Don’t be absurd!”

“I’ll thank you not to undermine my authority in this matter.” Wesley steps towards the door and pulls his coat on. “I’ll summon the Council and you will keep out of the way.” As he leaves and slams the door, Ethan mutters, “Watch out for tigers.” To Giles, he adds, “Rupert, wanker as he is, he may have a point. If Faith’s going to start acting like killing humans doesn’t matter, I’m fully in favour of her being elsewhere.”

“But it is an act, can’t you see that? She cares deeply about what she’s done.” Not that that matters until she is prepared to accept responsibility for it. But how is judgement and manhandling going to help her do that? It’s more likely to make her even more defensive. “No” Giles decides, “I wouldn’t wish the Council on her. Frankly, I’m surprised you would.”

“It’s not that I’m delighted to see them take her” Ethan concedes. “But really, what’s the alternative?”

Giles isn’t sure he has an answer to that.

*****

“It was no good” Stephen announces, meeting Giles and Buffy in the canteen the following day. “She wouldn’t talk to me or Joyce.”

“Still holed up in her bedroom?” Buffy guesses.

“Yes” Stephen sits down. “She did let me in but she certainly didn’t open up. Wanted to talk about homework instead.”

“She must be desperate” mutters Buffy. Then, eyes widening, she adds, “Um, no offence, Dr Gregory.”

Giles asks, “Is Joyce still with her?”

“The gallery’s closed for the day” Buffy confirms.

“I’d better get back to my lab” Stephen says, checking his watch. “I’ve got a senior class next lesson.”

“Thank you for trying” Giles replies.

 Once Stephen is gone, Buffy asks, “I guess it’s her last day, isn’t it? Unless I can persuade Wesley to call off the Council.”

“The Council won’t kill her, Buffy.”

“Not literally.” Buffy’s voice shakes. “Giles, can you talk to him? Get him to try a different way?”

“I’ve already tried. I’m afraid his mind is made up.”

“Then shouldn’t we warn Faith?”

“No” Giles is firm on this front. “If she knows they’re coming for her, she’ll run. The last thing she needs is to uproot herself from all she knows.”

“Isn’t that what will happen anyway?”

She has a point. But, “The Council are hardly famed for their sympathetic approach –”

“– Oh wow, and then some –”

“– but wherever they take Faith, it will be better than the sort of places teenage runaways end up. Believe me.”

“I guess you’re right. She can’t just go fugitive in some place at the end of a bus route. But I just hate that I’ll have to go home tonight and see her and not be able to warn her what’s coming. I mean, on patrol, if something was running at her, I’d yell, I’d knock her out the way. She’s kind of the other me.”

“I know”

“Honestly? I don’t think you do.”

“Would it help you to come back to my place this afternoon? Or the Magic Box? That way you don’t have to face her, knowing.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I should say goodbye. Well, I mean, I won’t make it sound like that. Plus, mom will need someone there. She may be uber-freaking about what Faith did but she still likes having her around.” Buffy studies her hands, folded in her lap. “Giles you should see her with mom sometimes. It’s like she’s making up for lost time. They had a movie night last month with all this Disney going on. Faith hadn’t seen half of it. I kept trying to spoil her until she started throwing popcorn at me.” Buffy sighs heavily. “I hate this.”

“I am sorry, Buffy. I wish there was something I could do.”

*****

“…and there’s nothing I can do” Rupert finishes, restlessly moving about their living room. Watching one’s fiancé pace and being unable to offer comfort neither an enjoyable or an unfamiliar experience, and Ethan stands to hug him. “I’m sorry, Rupert, but I do think it’s for the best.”

“No you don’t” Rupert accepts the hug while arguing. “You just want Faith to be taken away so she can’t cause any problems. It’s not the same thing.”

Ethan bites back the impulse to answer honestly (he never said best for her, did he?) and concentrates on the hug, rubbing Rupert’s back and fussing, “You’re so tense.”

“I can't think why” Rupert sighs. “They’ve probably arrived by now.”

“Then it’ll be over soon.” Over Rupert’s shoulder, Ethan frowns at the TV, which is on in the background, volume low. “Oh”

“What?” Rupert pulls away to look. A body has been found in the river.

*****

Eventually, Rupert heads over to the library, hoping to catch Wesley and see how the presumably now completed (what? Rendering? Abduction? Hard, Ethan thinks, to feel comfortable about it if he thinks about it so he won’t) went. Ethan goes with him and the two of them end up seated in the empty library. They haven’t been there all that long (it just feels long) when Buffy walks in, face drawn, mouth a thin, unhappy line. Rupert asks, “Is it done?”

“Yeah. They took her. Just came in and handcuffed her. She didn’t get to finish her dinner.” She crosses the room and sits down heavily on the library stairs. “Mom’s freaking.”

Ethan tries, “At least now she’s –” and stops at the looks on their faces. “I’ll make tea.”

“Not thirsty” Buffy replies and then she accepts her cup when it’s made and sips from it.

“We can make sure she’s given a fair hearing” Rupert is saying. “I’m going to contact the Council and offer myself as a character witness. And Wesley isn’t a monster –”

“– you sure about that?”

“– he’ll make sure an accurate report is given. He’ll probably go with her.” Rupert accepts his cup from Ethan and places it on the steps, leaves it there. Ethan sits down.

Clearly, Rupert doesn’t believe what he’s saying for Buffy’s sake. Ethan can see the worry in his eyes even as he murmurs reassurances. And no wonder: Whatever happens to disobedient slayers, it can’t be pleasant.

If Faith dies, Ethan wonders, will a new slay rise? Is she an auxiliary, an extra, or does she carry the line? And have the Council thought to wonder? Suddenly, Ethan isn’t as confident that this is all for the best as he was earlier.

“Couldn’t we rescue her?” Buffy now asks. “Get her back and, I don’t know, hide her somewhere?”

“That wouldn’t be all that conducive to the aim of not making her a fugitive” Rupert points out gently.

“Yeah. But. But a fugitive with friends. That’s got to be better than a prisoner all on her own.”

“I wish it was possible, Buffy. But I’m afraid there’s no stopping a Council retrieval team.”

“Oh” a voice from the doorway speaks. “Um. Except perhaps a reprobate slayer. We were a little, um, stopped.”

Buffy stares at Wesley. “You let her go?”

“Let wouldn’t be the way I’d phrase it, but yes, she escaped.”

An icy silence. Then Buffy snaps, “I’m sorry: What? After all that convincing me you weren’t going to hurt her, you drag her out the one place she feels safe and abandon her?”

“Again, not how I’d put it –”

“I don’t care how you’d put it! How could you let this happen?” Buffy stands. “Actually, don’t waste my time explaining. We’ve got to find her. Ethan, I need a location spell.”

*****

Location spells don’t work on moving targets, which is how Giles comes to be driving Buffy home sometime later with Faith still missing. Across town somewhere, Ethan is asking various disreputables if they have spotted an angry slayer on the move, and Wesley, presumably, is supplicating himself via a long-distance phone call.

This, Giles thinks, is precisely why they should have sent a watcher old enough to remember the jubilee. Clearly Wesley hadn’t grasped the severity of the situation or he’d have asked for more men and instructed them to bring tranquiliser guns. Faith isn’t the obedient, self-effacing girl they were all trained to expect in the field, but something quite different. Wesley’s failure to realise that could yet kill Faith. Or anyone who comes into contact with her before Buffy does.  

Beside him, Buffy is saying, “…not that likely she’ll go home but we’ve got to try, right? And if she doesn’t beat us there, it’s time to get the gang involved.”

“Yes” Giles replies. “It might be one of them has seen a different side to her.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of it’s more people looking, but maybe.”

“You don’t think they’ve – oh.” Pulling up, Giles is obliged to park on the kerb to avoid encroaching on the police car in the driveway.

On the subject of things one is not trained to expect in the field, providing an alibi is certainly on the list along with Faith. But nevertheless, Giles looks the officer in the eye and explains that both girls were with him for an evening study session that ran over on the night in question, and that he drove them straight home.

Faith, of course – and perhaps mercifully – does not appear at any point during the interview.

Once the officers are gone, Buffy nods her thanks to Giles and announces, “Time to call the guys.”

*****

“Oh, hi Ethan.”

“Hello Willow, Xander.” Ethan frowns at the pair, who look woefully out of place in this seedy little bar. How they got in is questionable, but apparently Faith gets in on a semi-regular basis, at least according to a vampire at Willy’s who has watched her from the empty house opposite.

“Buffy sent us to check out Faith’s hangouts” Xander explains. “She’s mentioned this place a few times.”

Willow glances around. “I’m guessing they’re not big on the IDing.”

Xander asks, “She’s not here?”

“No” Ethan confirms. “And last time I checked, she was headed somewhere as opposed to actually there, so a location spell is useless.” He steers them outside.

Willow says, “Then I guess we keep looking the old-fashioned way.”

“Unless I can escort you home?” Ethan offers. “Much as I’m sure you’re enjoying the tour of the town that ends with a cameo from the killer slayer.”

“Now you mention it…” Willow issues a put-upon sort of smile.

Xander, though, shakes his head. “Come on, Will, Buffy asked us to help.”

Willow nods grudgingly. “Looks like we’re staying out” she tells Ethan. “But if you want, you could come with us to the Bronze? Haven’t checked there yet.”

Before Ethan can answer, his phone rings. He steps away from Willow and Xander to take the call and returns a few minutes later, slipping it back into his pocket, as he tells them, “Panic over: Buffy found Faith over at the docks and now they’re back at Summers HQ.”

The teens stare at him. “And waiting for the police, right?” asks Willow, while Xander asks, “Are the watchers coming back?”

“No and don’t know” Ethan replies. “No warrant out just yet. What the watchers will do I have no idea.”

“Buffy won’t let them take her away again” Xander asserts.

“No” replies Ethan thoughtfully, “I don’t suppose she will.”

“Even if she should” mutters Willow. Noticing Xander’s expression she adds, “Well they have a point, don’t they? Unless we want someone with violent tendencies and superpowers running around.”

“I was leaning towards that way of thinking earlier” Ethan admits. “But one need only look at Wesley to realise the watchers’ council can really screw a person up.”

They set off, walking towards the centre of town. Willow asks, “So what now if they don’t take her away? Will they still be able to stop her hurting anyone else?”

Ethan wonders what to tell her and settles on the truth: “I don’t know.” After that they walk in silence.


	54. Doppelgangland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 3 episode 16, Doppelgangland, written by Joss Whedon.

“I really have to?” Buffy asks Giles when Wesley leaves the library.  

“I can’t see the harm in it” Giles replies.

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t…you know.”

“Remember the Council probably have only a hazy idea of the details. They might wonder if you could have prevented it somehow.” Pre-empting her troubled expression, he adds, “Not that you could have. But they don’t know that, so they’ll be wanting to check that your reflexes are as good as they can be.”

“And make me talk to a shrink” Buffy reminds him.

“Well, yes, and again I remind you, whoever made this decision might not know the details. And they certainly don’t have any precedent for what to do when two slayers who live in the same house are patrolling together when a civilian is killed.” Seeing that she’s still unconvinced, he adds, “Not to mention, you did witness it. It must have been upsetting.”

Buffy looks away. “Death not a new thing for me. I’m fine.”

“Something that would go without saying if it were true.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “There might have been a nightmare or two. Not that’ll I’ll tell the Council that. I don’t want to be shipped off to the crazy slayers’ retirement home in tweedshire.”

“You’re highly unlikely to be taken off active patrol, Buffy. They still want the hellmouth guarded, whatever’s gone on. Besides, the crazy slayers’ retirement home is in Wiltshire.”

Buffy throws a pencil at him. Then she attempts a smile and stands up as the bell goes, gathering her text books. “Fine. I’ll do the answering questions while jumping through hoops thing.”

“Good. It may well be that Faith models her response on yours.”

“Noted. I’ll be role model gal. Hope it helps her.” “I’m sure it will” replies Giles, who is not sure at all.

*****

“I want to do magic again. Real magic.”

Ethan sets aside the book on magical history. “I knew you would eventually” he admits. “And we will eventually. But for now –”

“Not for now, just now!” Willow pouts at him.

Ethan tries, “I thought you’d agreed to focus on history for a whil –”

“But not forever. I mean, it’s been ages since –”

“Since you unleashed Angelus?”

Willow looks chastised, but still manages, “Like you’ve never made a mistake before.”

“You met Eyghon, yes?”

Willow sighs heavily and reaches over to the history book, runs her fingers down it’s spine. “I get that I screwed up. But without magic, I’m just –” She stops abruptly. Tries, “Couldn’t we at least float pencils?”

“You’re a little past that.”

“I just need to do something non-doormat-dog-geysery.”

“Um. Bad dad?”

“And then some.” Meeting Ethan’s eyes, Willow elaborates, “Everyone thinks I’m Little Miss Do My Homework For Me Nobody. Except when it comes to magic and then they’re all, “this will make you dangerous!” Well maybe I want to be dangerous sometimes.”

“…And that is precisely why we’re not casting today.”

“Whatever” Willow seems to be attempting a sulky tone but it comes out despondent. Pulling the book towards her, she returns to her notes.

After a few moments, she looks up again. “Hey Ethan, what exactly is a temporal fold?”

Ethan frowns. “Who told you about those?”

“Oh, no-one in particular. Just something I was reading about.”

*****

With Rupert working late on researching the bloody Mayor, Ethan arranges an after-hours sale to an after-hours customer, and it is walking home from this when he spots Willow again, headed away from the Bronze.

Or, on second glance, not Willow, just a girl who looks similar and is rather too into the Goth-look.

And who, on third glance, actually is Willow after all. Ethan stares.

Across the road, Willow is wandering, apparently stressed and unhappy. And is wearing top to toe leather paired with a corset that doesn’t quite cover all it might. Crossing over to her, Ethan says, “Not sure I remember that one from the costume shop.” Greeted with a blank look, he adds, “Alright, in all seriousness, what brought this on?”

She steps closer and – Ethan hides his surprise with some effort – sniffs him. “You smell of magic” she tells him.

“Um. Yes, probably.”

“Did you do something?”

“Not tonight, it’s probably just residual.” At Willow’s continued blank stare, Ethan adds, “Anyway, I’ve been thinking and you were right earlier. We have focused on theory for a while and really no-one was adversely affected in the long run apart from Angel, and really, who care –”

She turns her back and walks away.

“Willow, wait.” Ethan follows her down an alley, the chatter of the crowd on Main Street quickly dimming. “Look, I’m sorry if I didn’t take the new look seriously. Really, I rather like it. You’ve some interesting glam rock elements going on.”

Willow ignores him. She is walking very quickly and Ethan has to jog a little to keep up. He tries, “Is everything alright?”

She turns around. She is a vampire.

Ethan stumbles back. Oh no. Janus, no. Not Willow.

She advances on him. “I don’t do mutton” she growls. “Leave me alone.”

“Um. Noted. Done.” Ethan takes several more steps back. “Gods, Willow –” The blow comes without warning. For a distorted second, Ethan assumes Willow – what was Willow – has attacked, but, he realises, lifting his head from where it rests on the tarmac, she is a little way off and…fighting other vampires? What in the name of Janus is going on?

Cold hands grab his shoulders and lift him to his feet. Mr Trick stares at him with what can best be described as mildly annoyed recognition. He pushes Ethan back, just hard enough that he stumbles for a few rapid steps without falling. “Get out of here, Rayne” he mutters, before joining the fray.

Ethan runs.

*****

Runs to the library and arrives out of breath and panicked in case Rupert was attacked along with Willow – no telling, in this town – so as soon as Rupert appears, unhurt, Ethan hugs him.

He is warm, thank Gods. Ethan checks his pulse just to be sure.

Rupert doesn’t need to ask if something is wrong so he asks, “What’s happened?”

Ethan hugs him again. “It’s Willow”

When Buffy and Xander enter, sombre, tearless, they find Rupert and Ethan seated on the library steps, arms around each other. “I know” Rupert tells them. “I know.”

*****

“I'm the one that called her reliable” Buffy tells them tearfully, after she and Xander have joined them on the steps. “She must have gone out and gotten attacked, which she never would have done if I hadn't called her reliable.”

“I should have taught her more defensive spells” Ethan says. “Instead of just using it as an excuse to teach her the fun stuff.”

“I knew that was what you were doing” Rupert comments mildly. He passes his glass from hand to hand and stares out across the library. He can’t actually see past the bottom of the stairs, Ethan knows, not without his glasses, and he is suddenly a little jealous of that. This world is an uncaring bitch of a place and he doesn’t want to look at it. He closes his eyes.

“She was so good” he tells them. “So gifted. I couldn’t –”

“Hey guys. What’s going on?”

At the sound of Willow’s voice – at the voice of what was Willow – Ethan opens his eyes.

The vampire has apparently killed someone whose tastes ran along similar lines to their Willow: she stands there in a fluffy pink sweater.

Or has she gone home, to change and kill her parents?

While Ethan is thinking this, thinking of her parents, the clever, distant mother from the anti-witchcraft rally and the devout father he hasn’t met but heard Willow talk about enough to get a sense of, Xander is trying to ward the vampire off with a cross. She stares at him as he glances at the thing and shakes it.

Buffy is the first to work it out, and if the slayer says it, it must be true: “Willow, you’re alive!”

“Aren’t I usually?”

The next few moments are a confusion of hugs. Buffy and Xander pile onto their friend and when she’s released Rupert rushes in. Finally, Ethan wraps his arms around her, only realising as he finally lets go that she hasn’t been given any explanation.

Willow – wonderful Willow – stares around at them. “Um. Say, you didn’t happen to do a bunch of drugs, did ya?”

*****

“Giles?” Oz sounds, well not frantic, but as close as Oz has ever come to it.

Glancing over to where the others stand around the book cage, Giles asks, “Are you alright Oz?”

“I’m very far away from alright. Giles – Willow’s a vampire. Or at least a Willow is a vampire. There was some confusion.”

“Where are you?”

“At the Bronze. Our set was interrupted by a hostage situation. Devon distracted them so I could get to the phone. Giles, is Willow –”

“She’s fine. She’s with us now. As is a vampire version of her, actually.”

“She’s alive? Oh” Oz draws a deep, shaking breath. “Good”

So much relief crammed into one word. No denying that the boy still has feelings for his former love, but there is no time to comfort him now. Giles asks, “How many are at Bronze?”

“Five that I could see. And a human girl working with them, she’s the one that sent the other Willow your way.”

“Alright. Get off the phone before they catch you. Can you get to a door?”

“No. Not that I’m looking to leave without Devon.”

“Hang on then. We’re on our way.”

*****

“We’re dressing the vampire?” Ethan fastens the hooks of the corset across Willow’s shoulder blades while she stands with her back to him and he stands with his back to Buffy, who crouches in the cage besides the still-unconscious – and now undressed – vampire-Willow. Rupert and Xander have already rushed to the Bronze in case the situation changes unpleasantly before Willow can finish donning her elaborate disguise.

Stepping away from him as he finishes, Willow replies, “Me and Buffy are dressing her. Much as I’d like you to see a 3D copy of my nakedness, it’s just that I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, understood, it’s just why not, well…” Ethan mimes staking.

Willow looks troubled. “I don’t think I can.”

“Lucky we have a slayer to hand then.”

From the cage, Buffy says, “I don’t think I can either.”

“You want me to do it? You could put a coat over her or something.”

Willow asks, “You really think you could stake something that looks exactly like me?”

Ethan considers. “Maybe” he decides. “If the real you is standing right there not being staked. I’d rather that than be eaten by something that looks like you.”

“That’s not gonna happen” Buffy replies. There is some shuffling as she apparently wrestles the undead version of Willow into Willow Willow’s clothes. “Hence the outfit swap. If anyone came in and finds Willow naked and locked in the book cage, they’d rush in and help.”

“I suppose. But it still seems odd not to stake her.” Willow shakes her head at him. “You try having a vampire you, see how you feel then.”

“A vampire _me_ would probably just take himself to the bite house and keep himself out of Buffy’s way. Your vampire self is the one who insists on causing trouble.”

“Wait” Willow replies, “the what house?”

Before Ethan can decide whether she’s old enough to know and how much Rupert will kill him for telling, Buffy announces: “Okay, I’m done. Let’s go.”

*****

Steeling herself, Willow steps into the Bronze and Giles, watching, feels something akin to horror at the thought of her walking among monsters in there. Buffy starts to direct them to cover the exits, but stops short as Faith walks up.

“Hey B. You were going to party without me?” Behind her, Giles glimpses a car pulling away.

“Faith” Buffy manages. “We, err, there wasn’t time to get you. How’d you hear about this?”

“I didn’t – just passing and saw you.”

“Passing in someone’s car?” Giles prompts.

Faith glances back the way the vehicle went. “So I was out with friends. Now” She folds her arms, feet planted wide in a battle stance, and flashes a smile. “Where’d you want me, B?”

*****

“Well” Ethan says some time later. “This is cosy.” He smiles at vampire-Willow, who sits alongside him and Giles in the back of Oz’s van, sandwiched between Faith and Buffy. Anya, seated opposite and held in place by Xander, rolls her eyes.

Outside, there is apparently some discussion between Devon and Oz before the former shouts a goodbye and the latter climbs into the driver’s seat, sends a greeting over his shoulder and starts the engine.

As they set off for the school, Buffy asks Anya, “This will definitely send her home?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” Anya shifts uncomfortably as they turn a corner. Xander adjusts his grip, still restraining her, but more gently. She glances at him with passing interest. Tells Willow, “This is your fault, you know”

“Thanks” Willow replies, “because I’d hate for a lot of people not being eaten by a load of vampires who got dusted to not be my fault.” She falls against Xander as they swerve again, shifts away subconsciously and tells her undead self, “Um, we’d better swap clothes again before you go back.”

“Agreed” replies the vampire, eyeing human-Willow’s outfit appreciatively. Or perhaps just eyeing human-Willow appreciatively. Giles would rather not think about that.

“By the way” Buffy turns to Faith, “did you get Mr Trick? Because I didn’t see him.”

“Me neither” Faith shrugs. “He’s probably enough of a bloodsucking computer geek by himself without joining undead Willow. From what I’ve read, I mean.”

Listening, Giles wonders about that. Perhaps Faith is referring to the fact that the vampire is known to commandeer modern technology. The books don’t mention computers specifically. Most were written by people who'd never heard of one.

“You mean the guy in the snazzy suit?” Vampire-Willow asks. “He didn’t want to play.”

“Stupid pragmatic vampire” mutters Buffy. They drive on in silence.

*****

Anya helps them grudgingly and under much duress. Once vampire-Willow is sent back to the wish-created reality from whence she came, she gathers up her things and regards them all coolly. “It won’t be long now” she tells them. “You’ll regret crossing me when I have my power back and mortal men have cause to tremble before me.” Leaving she pauses in the doorway and turns to Willow. “You want to tutor me in math?”

“Um” Willow manages, “I’ll pass, thanks.”

Anya rolls her eyes. “Fine. You’ll just have to face my wrath.” She leaves them all blinking in her wake.

*****

“Sorry, that was Wesley” Giles tells Ethan later, after putting the phone down and re-joining him in bed.

“We’re all sorry about Wesley” Ethan replies, reaching for him.

“I just mean sorry that it took me so long to convince him that Willow isn’t a vampire. It seems he saved Cordelia from the other version.”

“Is she alright?”

“Yes, and he drove her home.” Giles submits to Ethan wrapping his arms around him.

“Wait” Ethan pauses, catching something in his tone. “Wesley and Cordelia?”

“There does seem to be some attraction there” Giles admits. He wishes Ethan wouldn’t plant those little kisses along his shoulder while they’re talking about this.

Ethan asks, “On his side or hers?”

“Both, I think.”

“Oh Gods.”

“Indeed” Giles shifts closer. “Now” he says, in a tone that puts an end to idle chat. “Where were we?”

 


	55. Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 3 episode 17, Enemies, by Doug Petrie.

“Do you know anything about something called the ascension?”

“No” Ethan glances up from his typically half-arsed attempt at the crossword in the back of the paper. “Is this an underworld thing or a new band you’re into?”

Giles scowls at him. “An underworld thing as you well know. Though what sort of underworld thing is anyone’s guess.” He returns to his cooking preparation, peeling potatoes into a tub in the sink. Tries, “What about the books of ascension?”

“Well if I don’t know about the ascension, I’m not likely to have read the accompanying literature, am I?” Ethan responds.

“No-one’s approached you about a sale then? Because Buffy and Faith were offered copies at an extortionate price.”

“No-one’s selling more than cats and IV bags of the red stuff over at Willy’s at the moment. I haven’t even seen any new faces recently. It’s all very quiet.” Ethan frowns. “Which in this town is ominous, isn’t it?”

“It is rather. Speaking of ominous, is there any particular reason you’re letting Willow read the Merenshtadt Text?”

“It’s a history book, Rupert. Teaching her magical history tends to require she reads a few.”

Giles can’t argue with that. Gods know Willow has the power required for many of the spells mentioned in Merenshtadt. She may as well know their context. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m doing my best.” Ethan looks uncharacteristically sombre. “It’s not like there’s a guide book called How To Cope When You Accidently Stumble Upon One Of The Greatest Witches Of The Age for Dummies.”

“True” Giles works quietly for a moment. Then he adds, “I’d appreciate it if you could keep an ear out for anything about the ascension.”

“Will do.”

“And leave some challenging clues for those of us who actually want to complete the whole crossword, won’t you?”

Ethan rolls his eyes and tosses the paper aside.

*****

“She’s hiding something, Giles” Buffy glances across the library but the door remains shut, Wesley still at lunch.

“I’ve never found her to be exactly open” Giles tells her. “And the, err, death of Mr Finch must be taking a toll on her.” Seeing Buffy’s expression, he asks, “You think it’s more than that?”

“More and then some. She’s been in and out the house weird hours and suddenly she’s all following my lead when it comes to the Mayor. I mean, when has Faith ever followed my lead?”

“Perhaps she’s prepared bow to your experience when it comes to a more formidable foe” Giles suggests with an optimism he doesn’t feel. The last of his confidence in the second slayer fades as Buffy shakes her head. She tells him, “No. Faith and bowing are non-mixy things. It’s more like she doesn’t want to give herself away.” Buffy takes a deep breath. “And at that demon’s apartment…Giles, she knew where the light switch was.”

“Oh”

“Yeah”

Giles lets the full implications wash over him in a cold wave: a spy in Buffy’s home, a traitor sleeping down the corridor from her, from her mother. Protective impulse thrums through him.

Buffy asks, “What do we do?”

“Well to start with, I don’t think we should tell Wesley.”

“Agreed, like, ten-fold.” Buffy sighs. “You know me; I don’t think we should tell Wesley anything.” “At least not for now” Giles clarifies. Buffy – mercifully – is unaware of the full power of the Council. Keeping them out of the matter altogether is not an option. But, “We can at least wait until we know precisely what we’re dealing with.”

“Right. So, how’d we do that?”

*****

“A truth spell?” Ethan frowns and glances over his shoulder to see what his latest customer is eyeing. Holding the phone more snugly to his ear, he comments, “Last time I did one, I had the impression you were less than thrilled.”

“Last time I did one, it compromised my cover story.”

“And how will it not this time?”

“This time you’ll have one target.”

“A demon?”

“No. Faith, actually.”

“Faith?” Ethan frowns. Behind him, the bell clangs as the customer exits. Able to speak freely now, Ethan asks, “What on earth for?”

“I’ll explain more as soon as I can, Eth. How soon could you do it?”

“Tomorrow, if you like. Is she…” Ethan searches his mind for a suitably tactful word “…willing?”

“No. Or even aware, I’m afraid. Look, I will tell you everything once things are underway.”

“Well” Ethan says, “the thing is, I can’t do anything to Faith without her becoming less unaware unless you do want a school-wide bonanza again.” At Rupert’s questioning silence, Ethan explains, “If you want to target a specific person for a truth spell, there’s a lot of ritual involved. Circling them and chanting, that sort of thing. It’s not exactly subtle.”

“Damn”

“Sorry, love. But I could always cast it more widely if you like. You and Buffy could just be elsewhere.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Rupert sighs heavily down the phone. “I’ll have to think of something else.”

“Suit yourself. Anything else I can do?”

“Well” Rupert replies slowly, “Do you still have Dunsnarl’s talisman?”

*****

With everything that’s about to happen, Giles is barely annoyed by Cordelia of all people reminding him that he is no longer a watcher in the official sense. Letting Wesley take back control of the meeting such as it is – a few children sitting around the main table in the library – he watches Buffy leave with more concern than the situation warrants. Everything is under control, after all.

Except the children’s reactions. They have been kept in the dark about his and Buffy’s plan, in the vaguest of hopes that they might be mistaken and Faith might prove to be, as Buffy put it, acting guilty but not.

“Hey, I have an idea” announces Xander unexpectedly. At their visible surprise he clarifies, “Okay, so Oz had an idea. But I remembered it, so points to me.”

“And this is idea is…?” prompts Wesley

“Hall of Records” Xander replies. “Not a bad place to look for info on the Mayor.”

“Good thinking” Giles responds, keen to get them away from the ruse. Not that it isn’t a good idea in any case.

“You spoke to Oz?” Willow asks. “How is he?”

Xander shrugs. “Manly demon fighting guys don’t talk about that stuff.”

Cordelia asks, “So what’s you and Oz’s excuse?”

“Why don’t you head over to the Hall of Records now?” Giles suggests hastily. Turning to Wesley, he adds, “I’m sure you could escort them?”

“Of course, just what I was about to suggest.” Wesley leads the children out the door, Cordelia taking his arm, Willow and Xander trailing behind, conferring in the same hushed, urgent tones of any teenagers discussing their love lives. Giles watches them go and settles down to wait.

Once a suitable amount of time passes, he lifts the phone and dials. “Hello, Faith? Something’s happened.”

*****

When the library door bursts open some time later, Giles hopes for a brief moment that both slayers are returned, the whole matter resolved without betrayal. The moment passes as he looks up to see, “Xander. I thought you were at the Hall of Records?”

“Well much as watching Cordy throw herself at Wesley is my idea of fun, I thought I’d catch Buffy up.” An attempt at a jovial tone is undermined by the boy’s tense expression. “Giles, what’s going on? I ran into Faith on the way out the house, she tells me Buffy’s in trouble at the caves. Since when was she at the caves – I thought she was at the Mayor’s office?”

“Xander” Giles reaches for him, trying to shepherd him into a chair. “Tell me you didn’t say anything to Joyce.” He’d almost called her this morning but decided against it. If he and Buffy are wrong, causing Joyce to doubt Faith too will hardly help the girl.

“No” Xander sidesteps before Giles can place a hand on his shoulder. “I tried to follow Faith but she out ran me in a big ol’ slayer way. We need to get over there, right?” He heads towards the weapons in the cage.

“Xander” Giles trails him. “Faith has it in hand.”

“Is the Hall of Records on the way?” Xander takes an axe from a wall-mounted stand. “We could take some weapons for the guys. Can you drive us?”

“Xander” Giles steps closer. “As I said, Faith can handle this.”

Xander seems to finally register what he is saying. He stops to stare at Giles. “Kidding, right? Giles, Buffy needs help.”

“And Faith will help her.”

“Yeah? And so will we.” Xander continues staring as though waiting for Giles to come to his senses. Giles takes a step back and gestures to the chair. “Why don’t you sit down and –”

“And what? Giles, it sounded bad, okay, Faith practically run me over on the way to help.”

But who was she on the way to help? Giles removes his glasses and polishes them, buying time while he thinks how best to explain this. “Xander, there’s something you ought to know.” Taking the silence to mean the boy is listening, Giles continues, “Buffy and I have constructed a ruse to see if Faith can be trusted. Now, it’s vital that you–” Glancing up, he quickly slides his glasses back on and stares around the library. “Xander?”

Xander is gone. Giles reaches for a weapon. “Blast!”

*****

Finally bringing the car to a skidding halt at the edge of the woods, Giles tumbles out and races after Xander, who is running towards the nearby caves. The boy ran all the way here along pedestrian short cut and clearly has no plan as to how he’ll help (interfere) now he’s actually here.

“Xander!” Giles manages to grab a fistful of the lad’s coat.

“Giles, get off me!”

“You can’t just go running in and attack a sorcerer like –”

“Like who?” Xander swings round, freeing himself and staring at Giles intently. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been trying to explain. We –” At that moment, a loud crash resounds, a tumble of rocks or something thrown against a cave wall. Giles mutters a curse before telling Xander, “It will be clear soon. In the meantime, let’s go closer in case we can be of use. And Xander? _Don’t_ go running in. The situation isn’t what it looks like.”

What it looks like, as they get closer, crouching behind a rock at the cave entrance, is Buffy overpowered. Seated on a small mound of earth at the back of the cave, she is not only wrapped in chains but surrounded by a shimmering barrier of blue magic. She glowers at the two figures between her and the exit but Faith and her robed companion pay her no heed.

Giles feels Xander tense beside him and reaches over to close a hand around his wrist. Leaning sideways, Xander breathes, “Any reason Faith hasn’t got with the slaying yet?”

“Shh” Giles strains to hear what is being said, but gradually a conversation sorts itself out from the more benign chatter of the surrounding woodland.

“…take it from here” Faith is saying.

“No” is the reply. “It is not enough.”

“I gotta respect the mercenary attitude but this is all the boss gave me.”

“Then I find another buyer.”

Buffy huffs at this, appearing to strain against her bonds. “You’re actually going to haggle over me? Faith, just pay up and get me out of here!”

“You’re still not getting this, are you B? I’m not looking to mount a rescue here.”

Beside Giles, Xander’s breath hisses inwards.

“Not my point” Buffy is saying. “I’m just kinda curious how you plan to replay me for taking you into my home.”

“Yeah, I know you’ve loved every minute” Faith sidesteps so her back is turned to her sister slayer, speaking to the robed sorcerer. “Ten. Final offer.”

“Oh come, Faith!” Buffy rolls her eyes. “Ten thousand? What am I, a car?” To the sorcerer, she asks, “What’s the going rate for a chained up slayer anyway?”

“Higher than ten” is the reply.

Faith tenses and steps closer. “Look, my instructions were pretty clear: pay up and get out. I get what I want and we can both get out of here. I don’t, you rot here. You understand?”

“I know others who’d pay more for a chance to kill the slayer.”

“Chance is right” Buffy mutters.

“Still fighting, huh B? I knew you would.” Turning back to Buffy’s captor, Faith explains, “That’s just the thing: I can’t let you hand her over to something that’ll kill her. We can’t have another slayer rising before graduation day.”

Buffy shifts, causing the chains to clank. She comments, “I’m guessing you’re not going to put me up in the Ritz until then.”

Faith shrugs. “Might be a little less five star and a little more pit, but you’ll cope. Or not.”

“And you’ll what? Go back to live with my mom and just pretend I’m missing? See her every day?”

For the first time that Giles has seen, Faith looks murderous. Rounding on Buffy she snaps, “Don’t try and guilt me with Joyce! You think I don’t know she only took me in so I go after the nasties instead of you? Yeah, not falling for it!”

“Faith” Buffy looks genuinely hurt “that’s not –”

“Not what? Not polite to point out that I’m the spare? God, B, she met me right after she heard you died, what do you think she wants from me?”

Ignoring the two slayers, the sorcerer seems to be mulling things over. “The ascension is on graduation day?”

“Yeah. What’s it to you?” “In that case time is not on your side. You should be prepared to pay more.”

“Why?” Buffy asks. “Does the share price of Captive Slayer Inc fall after that or something?”

“Won’t be money after that” Faith tells her. “Or a whole lot of anything else so far as I can tell. Your little friends, B? They’ll be toast. Maybe literally: It’s gonna be the demon love-in Sunnydale was built for and we can’t have you around being all holier than thou about it.” To the sorcerer, she adds, “So hand her over.”

“It’s not enough.”

Faith rolls her eyes. “You know what? I’m through haggling.” She throws a punch.

Instantly, there is a rush of activity. Xander jumps up and runs towards Buffy, coming to a puzzled stop as he realises the slayer has already sprung up and shrugged off the illusion of chains, and is now attacking an outraged Faith. Spinning as she sends Buffy crashing into the wall, Faith snarls at the sorcerer: “You bastard! You played me!” She lashes out at him but tips herself backwards at the last minute to avoid the blast of magic he sends her way. It singes the stone wall behind her but before Faith can retaliate, Buffy grabs her.

Diving past the warring slayers, Giles pulls Xander out of harm’s way only to realise that harm’s way is blocking the only exit. “Damn. Oh!” Giles blinks in surprise as a magical barrier unfolds to shield them.

Xander glances from the sorcerer to Giles. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Before Giles can reply, Faith and Buffy have knives at one another’s throats, and he finds that all he can do is stare at them, silhouetted and lethal in the cave’s entrance. Then Faith is planting a kiss on Buffy’s head and pushing her back before running off into the woods.

*****

“This restores the balance between us, Rupert Giles” declares Dunsnarl some time later. “My debt to you is now repaid in full. Do not call upon me again.” Stepping back into the shadows, he pauses to nod to Ethan and add, “Unless of course it is to invite me to your conjugal ritual.” Then he melts into the gloom among the stacks and is gone.

“You see?” Ethan says from the library table. “Even Dunsnarl’s in favour of gay marriage these days. We’ll have to start planning place settings before you know it.”

Before anyone else can comment, Wesley snaps, “Can we please stay on topic? Mr Giles, do you mean to tell me that you pitted the slayers against one another with the help of that…of that…”

“Half human, half Gglinak” Ethan supplies. “And the slayers are fine. Well, one’s a murderous psychopath, but apart from that.”

“You’re not helping, Eth” murmurs Giles. 

“Is she actually” begins Xander, “I mean, I know she’s unhinged in a major sort of way but…”

“She’s totally unhinged!” Willow puts in. “Xander, this guy pretended to offer Buffy up to the Mayor and she comes to collect her! I think psychopath about sums it up.”

Buffy shakes her head. “She’s spiralling.”

“She’s way past spiralling.” Willow waves a dismissive hand. “She’s spun.”

Buffy murmurs, “I had no idea she had that much rage in her.” Looking at Giles, she adds, “That stuff she said about my mom…You know that was just delusion stuff, right?”

“Of course” says Giles, who doubts that that part of Faith’s world view is entirely unfounded, but who also knows that it is entirely possible to love a child dearly, to protect them, and to still send them to their death when the time comes.

Wesley is shaking his head, drawing himself up to full height. “I’m still shocked you did all this without informing me! I’m calling the Council right away!”

“And so you should” Giles tells him. “We have a rogue slayer on our hands. I can’t think of anything more dangerous.”

Suddenly looking less confident about calling the Council, Wesley retreats.

Willow says, “At least we got some intel. I mean, we’ve even got a date for the ascension, right?”

“Graduation day” Xander confirms. “I guess I’ve got to worry less about failing everything now what with being eaten by a demon tending to upstage that.”

Buffy shakes her head. “No-one’s getting eaten. We’re going to stop this thing.”

Giles smiles. Brilliant girl.


	56. Earshot

“Ethan” Rupert comes crashing into the shop just as Ethan’s closing for lunch. He is half supporting Buffy. “We need water.”

One glance at Buffy tells Ethan this isn’t the time for questions. He fetches a glass of water, which Rupert presses on the woozy slayer.

“Giles?” she murmurs, eventually taking the glass with a shaky hand and taking a few sips. “What’s going on?”

“You fainted again in the car.”

“Again?” asks Ethan.

“You were worrying too loud” mutters Buffy.

Rupert rescues the glass before it falls and sets it aside, tells Buffy, “I think there’s a herbal remedy in the basement that might help you rest once you’re home. If I may, Ethan?”

“Help yourself” Ethan continues to frown at Buffy as Rupert heads down the stairs.

“I’m not sick” Buffy reassures him. “I just have this messed up essence of demon thing going on.”

“Oh” Ethan sympathises “I’ve been there. If you think you’ve got problems, try wearing tight trousers with a four-foot forked tail.”  He turns his back on her, reaching for a book that might help. “I had to cut a hole in the back of everything I wore. Mind you, that came in useful when –”

“– Ethan, I beg you to stop thinking!”

“I’m not thinking” Ethan sets the book on the table. “I’m talking.”

“Oh. Oh, then way too much info.”

Ethan shrugs and returns to the book case. He doesn’t see why he shouldn’t reminisce about that encounter up against the DJ box just because Rupert has a prude for a slayer.

“God” groans Buffy behind him. “Just because I’m not a total pervert like you!”

Ethan spins around. “What?”

“I don’t want to know about you and Giles and a DJ box, okay?”

“Who said it was Giles?” Ethan pauses. Adds, “Actually, who said anything?”

“Right” Buffy rubs her temples. Looking up, she explains. “I’m psychic. That’s the essence of demon.”

“Ah. Well that’s good, isn’t it? Something of an edge.”

“That’s what I thought but it’s too much.” She scowls at him. “Even without the visual stuff. Stop thinking about DJ boxes, can’t you? You’re with Giles now. Oh, God, stop thinking about Giles!” Buffy covers her face with her hands.

“Ah” Ethan manages. “Right” Mentally, he scrolls through a series of images until he settles on a memory of a London street. With Rupert naked in it.

“Ethan!”

“Sorry” Ethan focuses until a picture of dancing flames fills the portion of his mind not taken up with staring at the counter. “Better?”

“Better” Buffy leans forward, rests her head in her hands. “Oh, God, the pictures are new. That or most people don’t think with as many pictures as you.”

“Well, I’m something of an artist.” Ethan edges to the girl and puts a hand on her shoulder, still carefully not thinking about Rupert that time in –

“Ethan!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Ethan edges away again, though Gods know what the child’s range is. This could be an utter disaster if it doesn’t wear off soon.

“Tell me about it” Buffy moans. “It’s giving me a hell of a headache.”

“Bad luck” Ethan commiserates. “Most people just get scales.”

“Actually pretty happy I don’t have those.” Buffy rubs at her head some more. “Especially if it stops a killing spree.”

“Killing spree?”

At that moment, Rupert reappears. “Yes” he confirms. He sets a jumble of items down on the table, handing a packet of dried herbs to Buffy. “You take this. Boil it in water at home and breathe in the steam. Ethan, we need a truth spell. A school-wide one this time.”

“Yes dear, of course. Killing spree?”

“I heard…” Buffy flinches and puts a hand to her head. “Someone’s planning to attack the school. I mean, a student is.”

Rupert adds, “We need the truth spell to find out who. It can take effect overnight, yes? In time for tomorrow morning?”

“Yes” Ethan reaches for the ingredients Rupert’s gathered up, starts to sort out what is actually needed. Glancing up as Buffy leans gingerly back in her chair, he asks, “Are you actually able to fight them? Shouldn’t you just tell the police or something?”

“Tell them what, that I’m hearing voices?”

“Point taken.”

“Willow’s working on a spell to trap the demon that infected Buffy” Rupert explains. “We’ll use it to make a cure and then Buffy should be well enough to, um, to deal with the situation once we’ve identified who Buffy heard.”

“I see.” Ethan shoves what isn’t needed aside and looks over what is, checking for flaws and impurities.

“Hey, Ethan” Buffy sits up again. “Could you cast a protection spell over the whole school? Could that be a thing?”

“If I could” Ethan replies, “don’t you think I’d have done it by now?”

“Oh. Right.” She sits back again.

“I might be able to do a barrier spell” Ethan muses.

Buffy shakes her head. “This is a threat coming from inside anyway.” She runs a hand over her face. “Sorry. It’s just extra creepy it being a person.”

Giles steps over and wraps a protective arm around her, helps her up. To Ethan, he says, “You’ll call once the spell is cast?”

“Will do.” Ethan hides a frown as he watches them go.

*****

“Don’t go in” Ethan blurts out at breakfast the next day.

“I have to go in, Ethan.” Rupert stands up.

“I don’t want you to.”

“I know.”

*****

When Giles returns, Ethan is pacing in the living room, stripped down to a t-shirt in front of a roaring fire. Nodding to it, Giles comments, “You’re well acclimatised to California, I see.”

Ethan embraces him, hugging him hard and speaking over his shoulder. “It was cold without you.”

“You’ve been at work all day.”

“Half the day. I couldn’t concentrate.”

Giles stares as the flames flicker and spit. “Where on earth did you get the firewood?”

“Up near the caves. I drove over from the shop.” Ethan shrugs against him. “Something to do.”

Something to do other than wait and worry. Giles knows that feeling well. Still he points out, “You wouldn’t rather have gone and found someone disreputable to socialise with?”

“Not today. Anyway, it reminds me of home.”

“Because at home a fire makes sense” Giles points out. The flat is baking.

“I just wanted something to do.” Ethan pulls away slightly and Giles thinks for a moment that he’s about to be released, but his partner simply adjusts his hold to settle more comfortably against him, chest to chest, shoulder to shoulder, face against hair.  

Giles smiles fondly before gently detaching him. “I’m often in danger in the course of my duties, Ethan. I know that’s poor comfort but –”

“This time felt different.”

Giles hugs him this time. “I know. But it’s over now.” He pulls away again. “Do we have a fire guard?”

“Possibly somewhere” replies Ethan. “Why?”

“Because I’d like for our flat to not burn down while I take you out for dinner.”


	57. Choices

“But it’s limited, right?” Willow frowns in concentration as she copies protection symbols from a spell book into her notebook. “I mean, this could protect three, maybe four people?”

“No limit to how many you can draw” Ethan points out.

“Not unless what I need protection from eats my hands off.”

“Touché”

The library is quiet, Rupert working in his office, wanting, Ethan suspects, to be within easy reach for the magic lesson without being actively involved, and Wesley is off being a prat somewhere.

“What I want to know” Willow muses, still bent over her page, “is will the Mayor actually eat us will he just be like, hosting? Saying to demons _hey you guys I founded this town as an all you can eat buffet so come dig in_?”

“Founded?”

“It turns out he’s way old. But could we maybe focus less on that and more on the part where we might get eaten?”

“We’ll be fine, Willow.”

“Maybe. I’d like it to be more than maybe.” Willow turns back to the protection symbols, starting another before conceding, “We’ve got a chance at least. I mean, we’ve stopped the big and scary before.”

“Exactly.”

Willow is quiet for a moment, focusing on the most intricate section of the symbol. Her drawing is adequate, functional but without flourish, which is as bad as Willow’s work gets. Doubtless she’ll want to move on soon – she is hardly used to finding a lesson difficult – but Ethan, still shaken by her vampire doppelganger’s visit, not to mention the coming ascension, will have her practise until she can draw this symbol blindfolded. Which, for all they know, she might have to one day.

Eventually, Willow speaks again. “At least if we don’t stop the Mayor eating everyone, they’ll shut up about me liking girls.” She glances up and adds, “Side effect of the truth spell.”

“Bugger” Ethan frowns. “I’m sorry, I should have thought of that.”

Willow gives him a fondly exasperated look. “And what, not do the spell so I could stay comfy in my closet? It was an emergency.”

“I could have realised it would happen and warned you not to go in.”

“I wanted to go in. I wanted to help. Anyway, I should have realised. It’s my…you know.”

Ethan watches her start another symbol, her accuracy off. He asks, “And everyone’s behaving like wankers?”

“Oh! Um, no, no, not everyone. Larry’s been nice, and him and Percy put a stop to the lesbian jokes. I don’t know why Percy’s being so, um…I guess compliant is the word…since last month but I’m not complaining. And a few girls were not wanting me in the locker room for gym but then Buffy walked in and they all went really quiet. And Amy’s been cool about it. Even Harmony’s trying, but in a really Harmony way.”

“Well it sounds like it could have gone worse, if that’s any comfort.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just wasn’t ready, you know? And, okay, so people who don’t usually talk to me are mostly okay about it but the people who do talk to me are weirded. Xander’s big-dealing it and Buffy might not want me to be ostracised from gym class but she still said my name a bunch of times.”

“Do you want me to talk to them? Or hex them.”

“No. And, no to the hexing too. I think it’ll just settle down and I’ll be less of a drama magnet and more of a Willow again.”

“Probably. But I’m sure we could find a spell somewhere to make them all wake up gay for a day which could –”

“– really play into Principal Snyder’s fears about me giving other students ideas? Yeah, probably counter-productive.”

“Gods, that man is the full package of nasty, isn’t he?” Ethan shakes his head.

“I’ll be okay. He called mom and she thinks it’s just a phase, but she still went into this rant about my legal rights until he hung up.”

“Good for her” Ethan says, “And I say that as someone she tried to burn at the stake.”

“It was pretty cool” Willow finishes the symbols and passes Ethan the page. As he looks over her work, she adds, “Really the annoying thing is people keep asking me who I like. They never cared about who I liked back when I was persona non grata or when I was persona musician dater. It’s like they think I’m all exotic now, but – really – I don’t like anyone specific. And, now there’s this rumour going around that I broke Faith’s heart and that’s why she left the school. I mean, Faith really? Do I look that desperate?”

Ethan chuckles. “Just ignore them. They’ll soon move on to the next scandal.”

Willow nods. “I really didn’t want to be scandal gal. I just wanted to wait until college where I’m guessing more people aren’t fazed by this stuff. Because Sunnydale High? Definitely fazed.”

“Have you narrowed down your college list yet?” Ethan asks, more to focus her on happier things than wanting more college talk.

“Yeah but then more acceptance letters came. Oo – I got into Oxford!”

“Willow, that’s brilliant! You’ll have to go; I can tell you all the best pubs.”

She shakes her head. “I’m still not sure about college abroad. But, I am working on the list. Oxford’s still a contender.”

“Good”

“It’s exciting. I mean, I might go to Oxford, Xander and Oz are going off on their big road trip, Buffy got into Northwestern…”

“Just don’t forget us old men when you’re chugging beer on whichever campus you choose.”

Willow looks offended. “I won’t chug beer.”

Before Ethan can educate her as to the realities of higher education, the bell goes. Hastily, Willow says her goodbyes and gathers her things, hurrying off and leaving Ethan with her protection symbol adorned notebook. Rupert emerges from his office and Ethan greets him with, “How much did you hear?”

“Nothing” Rupert replies. “Which is precisely what I was hoping for: a lack of screaming.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Just how unplanned do you think my lessons are?”

“You worship chaos, dear.” Rupert approaches the table and looks at Willow’s work. “Protection spells? Excellent.” He takes a seat.

“You see? It’s all for her own good.”

“And a real chore for you, I’m sure.”

“Love, this is what I’ve been trying to teach you since we met: things can be useful and fun at the same time.”

Rupert scowls. “I’m well aware of that. I’m just not prepared to apply it to magic. The last time we had fun doing a spell…” He trails off and looks away.

Deciding to take hold of the conversation and jolt it into a better direction, Ethan comments, “So I hear your slayer got into Northwestern?”

Rupert looks up sharply. “She got into…? No, no I didn’t.” A smile breaks out. “That’s wonderful news!”

At that moment, the door opens, and Wesley comes in, Buffy trailing after him. Rupert greets her with, “Buffy – you got into Northwestern?”

Buffy stops short. “How’d you know?”

Ethan, not looking up from Willow’s notes, raises a hand. “Guilty.” Glancing up, he explains, “Willow told me.”

“Oh” says Buffy. “Well, I did. Somehow.”

“Congratulations” Rupert tells her.

“Yes” Wesley concedes, “it’s very impressive and if you weren’t a slayer –”

Buffy rounds on him. “I’m also a person, Wes.” To Rupert, she adds, “It could be possible, right? I’d be home for every vacation and slaying the Mayor’s on my to do list for before school’s even out.”

Ethan watches Rupert, curious to see how he’ll respond, given that his response could well determine how they’ll spend the next few years.

“W-well” Rupert stammers. “Buffy, I know we’ve hoped that you could move away for college –”

“– We have? –” asks Ethan.

“– but with Faith now working for the Mayor –”

“It’s simply not possible” declares Wesley flatly.

Buffy ignores him and addresses Rupert. “What if I change things? Kill the Mayor, maybe get Faith to see sens –”

“I think that ship has sailed” mutters Wesley. Buffy glares at him. Turning back to Giles she reasons, “Or the council could send people to keep things under control during term time.”

Ethan speaks up. “And what about me and Rupert in this happy little scenario? Are we supposed to move to – where is Northwestern? Somewhere in the north west?”

Buffy scowls at him. “Illinois.”

“Oh Gods”

Wesley puts in, “There’s no reason for you or Mr Giles to go anywhere. Mr Giles is no longer Buffy’s watcher. Really, there’s no reason for the two of you to be in this country.”

Struck by that thought, Ethan turns to Rupert. “I never thought I’d say this, Rupert, but Wesley has a point.”

Buffy folds her arms, scowl entrenched. “What are you even doing here?”

“Magic lesson” Ethan replies. He turns back to Rupert. “Well, where are we then, if Buffy goes away?”

Wesley throws up his hands in exasperation. “There is no _if Buffy goes away_!”

Quietly, Rupert tells Buffy, “I think you’d need me here, wouldn’t you? I could help keep things under control, as you put it.”

Buffy’s face radiates gratitude. Ethan glares. “Right” he says. “Since this is nothing to do with me, I’ll be off.” He gathers his books and Willow’s spell work. Rupert glances at him, a glance that manages to convey _we’ll talk_ , before returning his attention to Buffy. “But Buffy, what we’re talking about is far from guaranteed. We’ve really no idea what the ascension will involve or the effect it could have on the hellmouth, let alone what harm Faith could do even without the Mayor.”

“I know” Buffy replies. “It’s just…I got in, you know? I have to try to actually go there. For mom, I have to try.” Looking down, she adds, “She’s been freaking since Faith left.”

Stepping past them, Ethan pats Wesley’s shoulder, partly to fluster him but also partly because he is, in a way, rooting for the prat: if Buffy could just imprint on him instead of Rupert, it would free up a lot of his partner’s time. And it’s one thing to stay on the hellmouth while Rupert guides the slayer, but guarding the hellmouth in the slayer’s absence? That’s not what Ethan agreed to or really what anyone with a healthy sense of self-preservation would agree to.

But as he leaves, Buffy is in battle mode, so apparently self-preservation is not the order of the day.

*****

Where a lack of self preservation will get you in Sunnydale is preparing to destroy the Box of Gavrok using the Breath of the Atropyx. With Xander. Really, could the lad not have gone with Rupert and the others? But he follows Ethan’s instructions with minimal fuss and the potion itself is easy enough to prepare, so it could be worse. Or at least, it could be worse until the others return without Willow. Then the situation really is as bad as it can get.

“No way!” Buffy snaps at Wesley in the ensuing shouting match. “We’re trading; it’s the safest way to get her back.”

“And all the deaths handing the Mayor the box will cause is something we’ll just worry about later, is it?” Wesley demands.

Buffy turns to Ethan. “Ethan, care to jump in with some magical solution anytime soon?”

“I’d love to” Ethan replies. “But unless we can get a very clear picture of what mystical barriers they’ve got besides the ones that were guarding the box, it’s a big risk.”

“That’s true” echoes Rupert. “If they realised we were trying to rescue her they’d…”

Buffy looks fierce. “No. I won’t let them hurt her. Giles, call the Mayor’s office, tell him we’re willing to give the box back in exchange for Willow.”

Before Rupert can respond, Wesley puts in, “We can’t let our fondness for Willow cloud our judgement!”

Xander shifts his weight meaningfully. “You might want to shut up, Wesley. You’re losing the room.”

Ignoring him, Wesley appeals to Ethan. “Mr Rayne, perhaps there is some magic that could –”

“Could what?” Ethan counters. “Disable all the protective spells the Mayor will have on the place, locate Willow and stop any of the henchmen getting to her first? Quite possibly there is. All in favour of gambling Willow’s life on it, raise your hands.”

There is a stony silence in which no hands raise. Xander, folding his arms, steps back and away from the group, biting his lip hard.

Wesley, with an air of forced patience, says, “It will be more lives than Willow’s you gamble if you hand the box back.”

Ethan dismisses this with a brief gesture. “We can worry about that when Willow’s safe.”

Wesley turns to Buffy. “A slayer doesn’t have the luxury of –”

“– of what?” she snaps. “Of having friends?”

“Of putting her feelings first! Buffy, Willow is one person, while –”

“Wesley, you really need to stop talking now.”

Wesley ignores that advice – it’s almost brave really – and soon everyone is yelling. It’s a chaos of voices that Ethan might enjoy under different circumstances, but not like this. Not with Willow in danger. He is actually relieved when Xander smashes the Breath of the Atropyx across the library floor and Buffy, calm in the wake of the noise, instructs Rupert to call the Mayor.

*****

The Mayor enters the library as soon as the lights go out, flanked by Trick. For a moment, Ethan is concerned about losing his place in the vampire’s (grudging) good graces, before he realises that Faith will have revealed all she knows about the group by now anyway.

Next, said slayer enters, followed by a handful of vampires, pushing Willow ahead of her and holding a knife to her throat. For a while, it’s hard to focus on anything else, for all the Mayor attempts to draw their attention with light-hearted jibes. Finally, the man (man?) shuts up and signals to Faith to make the trade. The two slayers step toward one another and Faith shoves Willow forward. Willow stumbles past Buffy and reaches Xander, who hastily starts untying her hands.

No reason other than honour for them to hand over the box now, so Ethan coughs meaningfully. Buffy, foolish, honourable child, simply glances at him as she hands the crate to Trick. Possibly she is just trying to avoid an all-out fight in a confined space, but Ethan can’t help thinking she is also too honest for her own good. He rolls his eyes at her and Trick – better able to see it in the dark – laughs. “Sorry, Rayne, we’re not about to leave without it.” He steps back towards Faith and the Mayor. “Hey, a faithful little birdie tells me you were working against me all through the band candy project. You know I oughta ask for my money back.”

Ethan tries for a smile. “You got your distraction, didn’t you?”

“It didn’t work out though” the Mayor points out. “And besides” He nods to Rupert “you have what might be termed an undisclosed connection to the enemy. Not something I’m impressed with in a subcontractor.”

Rupert steps subtly closer to Ethan, gripping a baseball bat in a way that makes Ethan feel nostalgic as well as marginally safer. But the Mayor has nothing further to say to them, and instead speaks to the room at large: “Well, this was –”

And then the door bursts open and the sodding principal is marching into the room, followed by two police officers. Rupert hastily lowers the bat but doesn’t drop it.

Briefly, between Buffy’s clear authority, the Mayor’s smooth talk and the sudden appearance of Faith’s very large knife, it seems the newcomers might be persuaded to leave without carnage.

Then the box is opened and it is a little late for that.

*****

“Next time you have a hostage situation that involves giant flesh eating spiders,” Ethan tells Rupert later in the library, “you’re on your own. Also, I’d love it if you’d consider a career where that sort of thing can go without saying, but given you being fired hasn’t put you off your current one, I don’t hold out much hope.”

Rupert, still engrossed in the pages Willow tore from the Books of Ascension, merely glances at him. To Willow, who is seated opposite, Ethan adds, “No offence, Willow; I am very glad you weren’t murdered.”

“Me too.” Willow smiles.

Beside her, Buffy has her own torn page in hand and she’s reading through it with a slayer’s academic focus; without much enthusiasm. Glancing up, she asks Willow, “So wait, Faith caught you with these books?”

“Yeah” Willow nods. “That’s when she pulled the knife and we had our big showdown.”

Buffy’s brown crinkles. “But she didn’t tell the Mayor you’d read them?”

“No” Willow looks a little startled by the realisation. “She just shoved them back in the cupboard.”

Buffy glances from her to Rupert and Ethan and back. “You think she’s having doubts?”

“What about the whole serving evil thing?” Willow scoffs. “No, I think she’s pretty much made up her mind.”

“But she did look kind of torn before she left with the Mayor” Buffy argues.

Willow shakes her head. “I think she just didn’t want to leave the knife behind. She seemed attached to it in a very non-healthy way.”

Ethan shudders. “I’d say that’s not someone you want to go handing out second chances to.”

Rupert finally speaks: “Eth, I’m not sure you and I can judge who gets a second chance. But, Buffy, I don’t think we have any reason to suppose that Faith wants one.”

“Maybe she just didn’t know what the books were” Ethan points out. “She might not be in on the details of the Ascension.”

“I guess” agrees Buffy reluctantly. “I just don’t like to think…there’s got to be something left of the girl we knew, right?”

Willow shakes her head sadly. “That’s assuming we knew her” she says.

*****

“So” Rupert asks as he slips under the covers that night, “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you want me to become a grocer after all?”

Ethan snuggles closer. “Ten being ardently pro-grocer?”

“Yes”

“Then sevenish. Most of the time.” At Rupert’s frown, Ethan explains, “Look, I know it’s your calling and all that dull jazz. I just can’t help but want my partner to not be eaten by giant spiders or sleezy politicians. Or to be on the menu myself, for that matter.”

“I don’t want that either, love.” Rupert slips an around him. “But I can’t just abandon Buffy to Wesley’s guidance. She’ll need more help to defeat the Mayor than he can give.”

“And once the Mayor’s slain, she’ll be off to Illinois and it will be just you, me and the hellmouth? Wonderful.”

“I know I ask a lot.” Rupert’s hold tightens briefly, and then he adds, “Though I’ve just found out that helping me guard the hellmouth in Buffy’s stead won’t be one of them – she told me when I dropped her off at home that she’s decided to go to UC Sunnydale.”

“She has?”

“Yes. So it looks like we’ll be staying here for the foreseeable, but not without a slayer by our side fulltime.”

“Good” Ethan relaxes in Rupert’s arms and tries not to think about how trapped that decision confirms Buffy to be.


	58. The Prom

“You’re what?” Ethan asks. Lucky there are no customers in the Magic Box to witness his shock.  He can feel his eyes bulging.

“I’m going to UC Sunnydale” Willow repeats. “Buffy and Amy too.”

“UC Sunnydale?” Ethan continues to stare. “Not Harvard or Oxford or any of the other zillion or so actually decent establishments you got in to?”

“Sunnydale’s decent” Willow argues. “Also, Amy thinks our magic will grow better here what with –”

“– What, the hellmouth? Try growing it somewhere with less dark energies flying about and you might both get turned into rats less!”

Willow gives him a look. “Okay, first, when that happened to me, it was kind of your fault. And second, people come from all over the world to do magic in Sunnydale, Amy says, and not all bad stuff. There’s a college Wicca group we can join and everything.”

“Oh, there’d be a Wicca group in any college you could name” Ethan dismisses. “And your magic is strong enough that it could grow quite nicely anywhere. Somewhere that happens to have a world-famous elite university for example.”

“…which leads me to point the third, which is that this is my choice.”

“What do your parents think?”

“I haven’t told them yet. But I think they’ll be leaning towards point the third too once it sinks in.”

Ethan shakes his head. “You’ll be wasted on this town, Willow.”

“Like Buffy is? See, I think we can both do well here. Not to mention help a bunch of people. Now” She pulls a book towards her “how about we get back to researching the Ascension so college can actually happen?”

*****

“How do you feel about helping me chaperone at the prom?” asks Rupert that evening.

Ethan puts his book down at tilts his head back to regard his partner standing behind him. “Could I spike the punch?”

“No. Aside from being inappropriate, that would also be rather unoriginal.”

“Wouldn't that make it traditional?”

"You hate tradition."

"Not funny traditions."

Rupert sighs. “No pranks, no magic, just an evening at a high school dance.”

“Well fun as the last one was –” Ethan begins. 

“It would be more fun with you”

Ethan studies Rupert for a moment more before relenting. “Oh, go on then. But you owe me one.”

“More than one, I’m sure.” Rupert smiles and plants a kiss on his forehead.

*****

Predictably, the prom is a mundane affair, especially since Buffy stops the hellhounds before they even get through the door. Granted, that’s probably for the best, but it might have been amusing if one had got in just long enough to provoke a few screams. As it is, they are left with only Sunnydale High students’ idea of good music for entertainment.

“Not this song” mutters Ethan as a typically pop-tastic track comes on. To Rupert, he asks, “Why’d I let you talk me into coming?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It really is. Apart from your formal get-up.” Ethan eyes his partner appreciatively. “That makes it almost worth it.” Rupert, he realises as he trails his gaze back to his fiancé’s face, isn’t even looking at him, but at Buffy on the dance floor with her date. Ethan rolls his eyes and asks, “Who’s the beau?”

“Some chap called Scott Hope.”

“Wasn’t he the one hanging around at the last school event you dragged me to?”

“Yes, I think so.” Rupert smiles at the dancing couple. “I don’t think she’s very serious about it, but it’s still lovely to see her smi – oh” Rupert finally pays Ethan attention as the music changes suddenly to something familiar from their own youth. He glares until Ethan, muttering and huffing, casts a counter hex and restores the music to its original notes. Rupert shakes his head despairingly. “It’s not your night, Eth. It’s for them.” He nods to the dance floor, where Buffy and Scott are now being joined by Xander and Anya of all people. Apparently the scooby gang can’t go a full year with no-one involved with a once-terrifying entity, Ethan thinks, though it’s hard to sustain his annoyance when Anya looks so very human and so very happy. Instead he looks around for Willow and spots her chatting to Amy by the punch bowl. Tonight was always going to be a mixed experience for her in the circumstances, but she looks content enough. He judges it best not to show her up by heading over there.

“Oh, good Lord” mutters Rupert beside him. At Ethan’s questioning glance he nods to the side of the room where Wesley is parading a very smug looking Cordelia around on his arm.

“To be fair” says Rupert, “I did tell him to just get on with it on the grounds that he has the mindset of a bumbling fifteen-year-old anyway. But I thought he’d be at least a little subtle about it.”

“Oh well, he’ll be out of here next year anyway, won’t he?”

“I suppose so. I imagine the Council are arranging for him to work at the college.”

There is a note of bitterness in Rupert’s voice so Ethan slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out a hipflask, offers it to Rupert. Rupert issues a disapproving look but takes it non the less, unscrewing it and taking a quick swig while the room is distracted by announcements commencing on stage.

*****

“May I have this dance?” purrs Ethan later, coming up behind him. Giles shakes his head. “Ethan, I know you’re probably tipsy by now but you are still supposed to be a responsible chaperone.”

“What’s irresponsible about dancing?”

“I can’t dance, love. I’ve got to look after this for Buffy.”

“You’re rejecting me for a sparkly umbrella? Just put it on the table!”

Giles shakes his head again. “Buffy would never forgive me if something happened to it.”

Ethan rolls his eyes and reaches over, hooks the umbrella over Giles’ arm so he can carry it and still dance. Giles protests, “I’m not dancing with a sparkly umbrella!”

“For Janus’ sake, Rupert.” Ethan reaches out again. “I’ll carry it then.”

Unable to protest more, Giles lets Ethan lead him out onto the dance floor. He can’t help but feel awkward at first, swaying close to Ethan in a room so crowded with so many colleagues and young people. Not long ago, he could have lost his job for this. Gradually though, Ethan’s closeness soothes him and he starts to relax. Ethan steps closer and, pressing his head snuggly against Giles’, murmurs something that Giles doesn’t quite catch. What he said quickly becomes apparent when the music slips unnaturally from some melancholy ballad to what Ethan has in the past called “our song”. Giles rolls his eyes less from the unnecessary magic than from the fact that, really, they don’t have a song. Hindsight has imbued this track with a significance that it didn’t have at the time. Back then it was just another song.

But Ethan looks so content that Giles doesn’t have the heart to point this out. Instead he smiles fondly at his fiancé and keeps dancing.


	59. Graduation Day part 1

Unable to sleep, Giles twists around to watch Ethan’s slumber. His partner is laid out beside him, features indiscernible in the darkness, his breathing deep and restful.

Giles smiles and lies back, only to find his mind returning to the news that the Mayor’s ascension will take place on the school campus, with rows of gown-clad children lined up before him. He sighs deeply. So little time and so much they still don’t know. Really, they still don’t have the first clue as to how they’re going to stop it.

Which is all the more reason to sleep now and be refreshed for research tomorrow. Giles rolls over and wraps and arm around Ethan.

Just as he starts to drift, the phone rings. Giles bolts upright and grabs for it. “Buffy?”

“Yeah” his slayer confirms. Beside Giles, Ethan rolls over with a groan and pulls the pillow over his head.

“What’s happened?” Giles asks, “Are you hurt? Where are you?”

“I’m okay, Giles.”

Giles breathes out a sigh of relief but tells her, “It’s an odd time to ring if you’re okay.”

“Yeah” Buffy agrees. “It’s just…well, you won’t believe who just called me.”

*****

“So” Ethan says as they step out of the car, “remind me again why this is a good idea?”

“I never said it was a good idea” Giles replies, looking around at the docks. There is no sign of Buffy.

“And yet here we are away from our comfy bed and vastly escalating our chances of being stabbed” Ethan complains.

“We’ll be alright, Eth.”

“What on earth are you basing that on?”

“We just need to find – oh, hello Buffy.” Spotting his slayer emerging from the shadows, Giles raises a hand in greeting and keeps his voice low. This location was chosen for both its neutrality and because the chances of the Mayor’s lackeys spying on them here is relatively low, but that is no reason to call attention to themselves.

Buffy smiles as she approaches but her body language is tense. She greets Ethan with, “You’ve brought some talismans?”

“Yes” Ethan hands hers over a complicated arrangement of herbs strung on a corded necklace. He and Giles are already wearing there’s. Buffy studies it for a second and then slips it around her neck, asking Giles, “Weapons?”

“Yes” Giles opens his coat briefly to show her his before lifting a crossbow out the car for her. Taking it, she glances again at Ethan. “What about you?”

“I have a few vials of Fyarl mucus to throw if things get violent. But really, what are the chances of that?”

Buffy frowns. “They should be here by now.” She stares around at the warehouses and ships, all still in the darkness like a metal landscape.

Giles asks, “What exactly did she say?”

“Only” Buffy begins, and then stops, studies the gap between two warehouses intently. Hesitantly, she asks, “Faith?”

“Hey B” The rogue slayer steps out from the shadows, arm around a middle-aged stranger in a way that is one part companionable, two parts possessive. The man’s expression wavers between confused and fearful. Giles steps forward. “Professor Worth?”

“Yes?” the man replies defensively.

“I’m Rupert Giles.” Giles catches shakes the professor’s wavering hand, noting the pulse hammering in his wrist and the way he seems surprised, rather than pained, when his skin encounters the cross concealed in Giles’ sleeve. Releasing him, Giles directs him to the car. “I’m here to take you to a safe house.” He has no idea what, if anything, Faith has told the man, but he judges that use of the word safe will serve the situation well.

“But why do I need a safe house?” yelps the professor. “What’s going on?”

“I promise I’ll explain everything shortly” Giles tells him. To his relief, the professor steps over to the car and climbs in, Faith letting her arm slip from his shoulders.

As soon as the car door has closed, Ethan steps away from their group and, crouching on the concrete, casts a cloaking spell over the area. Only then does Buffy speak: “So why the sudden change of sanity?”

Faith scowls. “Don’t go getting used to me helping you out. This is a one off.”

Buffy shrugs. “Actually, I’ve already got plenty of tweedy academics on my team – I don’t see how the professor there can help me.”

Faith folds her arms. “It’s about you helping him.” At Buffy’s raised eyebrow, she explains, “Boss wants him dead.”

Buffy’s raised eyebrows are no longer for show. She darts a look back at the bewildered man in the car. “Why?”

It is Faith’s turn to shrug. “Beats me. He seems harmless.”

“What’s his field of study?” asks Giles.

Another shrug. “How am I supposed to know? I was sent to kill the guy, not interview him about his boring life story.”

“And you brought him to us instead” Buffy finishes quietly.

Faith glares. “Like I said, don’t get used to it.”

“I’m sure we won’t” mutters Ethan.

“Thank you, Faith” says Buffy.

“Don’t thank me” comes the reply, “Just get him out of town. I’m dead meat if the boss finds out he’s alive.”

“Wow” Buffy snaps back, “there’s a guy you wanna work for!”

“Whatever” Faith turns to go. “Just get him out of here, will ya? He’s not worth my time.”

“You did a good thing tonight” Giles tells her.

The rogue slayer pauses. “Yeah? Then no wonder it ain’t sitting right already.” To Buffy she adds, “Nice knowing you, B. Don’t suppose I’ll see you again before the ascension.” Then she pauses again and, bravado slipping, she says, “You might want to get your mom out of town.”

“Why?” asks Buffy, “You don’t think she’ll get on with your boss?” But Giles sees her nod imperceptivity.

Faith gives another shrug. “Even Trick’s skipped town too chicken for the show we’ve got coming. It won’t be Joyce’s thing.”

Giles frowns. “Trick’s gone?”

Faith nods. “Took off a few nights ago, said it was time to move on. Not man enough to see it through.”

Buffy sighs. “And it doesn’t occur to you that if the ascension scares Trick it might be bad news for, oh, say, you?”

Faith spits pointedly. “Think I’m care what the vamp that drove Kakistos into town thinks? When he wasn’t being a geek he was being a bastard.”

“When the guy you both work for is so sweet!”

Something flashes in Faith’s expression then, something deeper than swagger and banter. For a moment, Giles expects the situation to turn ugly, but Faith merely replies, “You don’t know him.” At Buffy’s disgusted expression Faith laughs, relaxes back into her poise and says, “Sorry, B – like I said, this is a one off. I’m not looking to kiss and make up.” She blows Buffy a kiss. “Or at least not that last part.” With a grin, she disappears into the dark, the air rippling as she leaves the veiled area.

“Well” says Ethan, “you have to admit that she has a certain style. A homicidal style, but a style none the less.”

Ignoring him, Buffy nods to the car, where Professor Worth peers out. “What are we going to tell him?”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something” Giles assures her.

“Something good enough to convince him to leave town?”

“Possibly, with the Council’s help.” Giles sighs. “We’re going to have to call Wesley.”

*****

“Whereabouts in Kauai?” asks Giles an hour later.

“Mount Waialeale” replies Professor Worth. “We were excavating old lava beds.” He looks around at the others – Ethan, Buffy and Wesley – assembled in the living room of Giles and Ethan’s flat and adds, “Look, if my field were finances or international law or what have you, I can see how I might come across something that a politician might not what anyone to see. But I’m a volcanologist! Why would the mayor of Sunnydale want me dead? Is this a hoax?”

“We’ve shown you our ID” says Ethan, who has in fact cast confusion hexes and waved a driver’s licence in the poor man’s face.

“Yes” Professor Worth sounds doubtful. “But…Forgive me, but you’re all British. I’d have thought the FBI would be, well, more American.”

“I’m American” Buffy points out.

“But you and Wesley are the interns” Ethan reminds her, provoking an eye roll.

Wesley tells Worth, “There’s more collaboration between the FBI and MI5 than you might realise. Both organisations have been investigating Mayor Wilkins for some time.”

“And I’ve seen something I shouldn’t have?” concludes Worth. “In a dormant volcano? What?”

“That’s what we’re hoping you could tell us” says Giles. “What did you uncover in the lava bed?”

“Nothing political!” replies Worth.

“But something besides rocks and stuff?” prompts Buffy.

“A dinosaur” says Worth. “Or at least, that’s what I took it to be. We need to do tests to confirm the age of the fossil.”

Buffy looks at Giles who hurriedly scribbles some notes while Wesley strides to the bookshelf, asking, “What sort of dinosaur? Describe it.”

“I can’t really” says Worth. “We didn’t find enough to put together a picture of what the creature might have looked like.” He frowns. “Big” he adds. “Carnivorous – we found teeth.”

“Carnivorous” repeats Buffy in a sulky tone. “That figures.”

Worth blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing” Buffy hastily replies. “Um, do you think the thing was killed by the volcano?”

“There’s no way of telling” comes the reply. “Maybe it was or maybe it was killed by another predator or died of natural causes just as the volcano was erupting.”

“So really non-specific?” asks Buffy as Wesley, behind her, hands an open book to Giles. Giles glances at the section Wesley is pointing to, on the demon transformation, but he already knows what Wesley is excited by: if this once-embodiment of a true demon is now a harmless fossil, the Mayor is also killable, or will be, after the ascension.

“If another creature killed it” Worth is saying, “it must have been huge. Or perhaps a pack of smaller creatures took it on – velociraptors or some such. Palaeontology isn’t my area.”

“A pack…” murmurs Buffy thoughtfully.

“Yes” says Worth. Then he shakes himself slightly with the look of one who catches himself talking about an academic interest when more practical matters are underway. “But – forgive me – what interest could a politician have in any of that?”

“That’s classified” replies Ethan smoothly.

“What you do need to know” adds Buffy, “is that the Mayor wants you dead. Can you trust us on that?”

“I don’t know about that, but that young woman’s knife was very convincing. Who was she?”

“That doesn’t matter” replies Buffy, at the same time as Ethan says, “one of our agents” and Wesley says, “a informant” There is a pause in which Ethan withdraws some powder or other from his pocket and sprinkles it in mid-air. The confusion on the professor’s face deepens and his eyes glaze. Buffy says, “You’re going to have to leave town.”

The professor looks alarmed. “Is that really necessary? What about my research?”

“You’re life is in danger if you stay here” Wesley reminds him. Giles adds, “We’ll smooth thing over with your employers.” To Wesley, he says, “I’m sure that will be possible won’t it?”

Wesley hardly looks thrilled at the prospect of asking the Council to pull strings on behalf of this unknown civilian, but he replies, “Yes. Of course.”

Giles tells the professor, “They can report you missing so that the Mayor assumes you were – err – disposed of, and once the Mayor is, um, arrested, you can return.”

“How long will that be?” asks Worth.

“We’re closing in” Ethan tells him, and Buffy adds, “It’ll be over in days” and then looks struck by the thought.

Putting aside his notes, Giles tells Worth, “I’m going to make arrangements for you to go and stay with one of our, err, agents, in LA. Her name’s Jenny. She and her…her colleague, Angel, will ensure you’re safe until the Mayor is dispo – um – out of the picture.”

Worth still looks unnerved by the whole thing, but he nods.

*****

In the end, Wesley drives Worth to LA, after a few hurried international phone calls. It isn’t possible to cloak a moving vehicle, but the rising sun tinting the air as they drive away minimises the risk that any of the Mayor’s informants will be skulking around to witness their departure.

“Well” says Ethan, watching them go, “Where’s a volcano when you need one?”

“Can you make one with magic?” asks Buffy.

“Unfortunately not. And fun as trying invent the magic would be, it would take longer than we’ve got.”

As they head back into the flat, Giles says, “At least we know the Mayor can be killed after the ascension.”

“Then why bother with it?” asks Ethan, “Why not just stay invincible, immortal and human-shaped?”

“I rather think that trying to discern the motivations of someone prepared to sacrifice babies is rather pointless.” Giles heads into the kitchen for much-needed coffee for the three of them. Returning with it, he asks Buffy, “Did you tell your mother that it was Faith who called?”

“Nope” is the reply. “I don’t want to open that whole can of worms. Or to make her think Faith is a safe invite-in kind of person.” She sips her coffee. “Though she did save Lester” she adds. “That has to count for something, right?”

Giles regards her sadly. “I’m not sure if not killing a defenceless man is quite a high enough bar for trusting someone, Buffy. But you’re right that it is a good sign.”

“Right” agrees Buffy. “A maybe she’s not irredeemable sign, not a come over for tea with mom sign.” She wraps her hands around her mug. “Not that I ever thought Faith’s irredeemable. She’s always been deemable.”

“You know if she decided to visit your mum, she wouldn’t exactly be held up by a locked door” points out Ethan. “Maybe she was having a rare moment of sanity with the whole send-Joyce-away idea.”

“Way ahead of you” confirms Buffy. “Soon as I get home I’m packing mom off to visit my aunt.”

“Tell her I can watch the gallery if it helps” says Ethan.

“Thanks” says Buffy. “That almost makes up for you making me the intern.”

“Well, what was I supposed to say? You and Wesley couldn’t pass as agents, you both look about twelve!”

“I do not! Just because you’re way old.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t make you the one who makes the tea!”

“If we can focus” Giles puts in before Buffy can respond, “I’m afraid we’ve only got a few hours before school. Buffy, perhaps you could call Willow and Xander to the library before lessons to tell them what we’ve learnt? And for some research – we might know the Mayor can be killed but we’ve still no idea how.”

“I wouldn’t call it an idea” replies Buffy, “But I kind of have something to run by you guys. A pre-idea, maybe. A idetus.”

“Oh?” Giles exchanges a glance with Ethan.

“It’s probably stupid” Buffy adds.

“I wouldn’t worry about that” Ethan assures her. “A stupid idea is better than no idea.”

“Well thanks for that note of confidence.”


	60. Graduation Day part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from BtVS season 3 episode 21, Graduation Day part 1, written by Joss Whedon.

“Are you sure this will work?” asks Giles, pausing in packing the occult books into boxes to watch Stephen work.

“I think so” Stephen replies, “Chemistry isn’t my specialty, but the instructions are pretty clear.” He glances up. “Are you sure Principal Snyder won’t walk in and see all this?”

“As sure as I can be. He’s always respected the library closed sign before.”

Stephen smiles knowingly, and Giles can’t blame him. The things he’s gotten away with in here; the martial arts training, the stockpile of weapons, the demonology books. Hellmouth stupefaction has its perks.

The books packed and the preparations made, the two of them survey their work. Stephen asks, “This won’t affect the hellmouth, will it?”

Giles replies, “If it does do anything unusual, it will be because of the mystical influence of the ascension, not anything as mundane as explosives.” He’ll miss this place, he realises, only after it is inevitable that it will shortly be vaporised. “I suppose this will put us out of our jobs, at least until they can build a new school.”

Stephen shakes his head. “I’m retiring anyway.”

“Oh?”

The man smiles. “I was going to announce it sooner, maybe have a party, but then the end of the world got in the way.”

“It won’t be the end of the world. We have a plan now.”

“A plan that puts the students in danger” Stephen points out.

“They’d be in danger anyway” reasons Giles. “This…well, it empowers them to fight back.” Trying to ignore Stephen’s dubious expression, he steps towards the cage. “Let’s ready the weapons.”

*****

“I guess they can’t give us with a detention for graffiti even if we survive” Willow says nervously, glancing around as Amy places crystals strategically and Ethan sprays symbols onto the car park tarmac. “What with us leaving school and all.” But she still looks rattled.

“Yeah” says Amy. “And with the school about to not exist anymore.”

“That’s true” Willow’s expression doesn’t change until she adds, in a tone of forced cheer, “And this will save people, right?”

“Absolutely” Ethan replies. “A subtle and understated way to fight demons.”

“Good” Amy hides the last crystal in a clump of long grass. Standing up, she asks, “But it won’t save everyone, will it?”

“No” admits Ethan. “Protection spells have their limits. Especially in the face of the sort of magic the ascension will involve.”

Amy nods sombrely. Willow murmurs, “Gulp” and kneels to add bone and twig talismans to the clump of grass.

“We’ll be alright, Willow” Amy says.

Seeing the lack of conviction on the child’s face, Ethan turns the conversation to practical matters with, “Did you talk to Oz?”

“Yeah, he’s getting Devon to spread the word. And Percy and Larry are organising the athletes. Xander talked to Harmony.”

“Lucky Xander” mutters Amy. “Michael’s in.”

“Good” says Willow. “And you’ll be there, right Ethan?”

Reluctantly, Ethan nods. “For my sins.” He nods to the rows of seats visible on the playing field in the distance. “I’ll be behind the platform trying to weaken him with magic – and running away if he notices me, I might add.”

“I might join in with the running” admits Amy, watching a pair of teachers lift a table onto the stage. “Not that I think no-one’s going to survive, but I want one them to be me, you know? There’s definitely a time limit on my bravery.”

“It’s called survival instinct” Ethan tells her.

“I’ve got to go” Willow announces, standing up. “I promised Xander and Oz I’d help them learn military strategy.”

“That should be easy to do in a couple of hours!” says Amy.

“After teaching Percy history?” Willow replies. “It’s the one part of the plan I’m not worried about.”

“Well do _you_ know military strategy?”

Willow shrugs. “I learn fast.” She raises a hand in farewell. “I’ll probably see you guys later but if not…well, good luck.”

Watching her leave, Amy mutters, “We’re really screwed, aren’t we?”

*****

He doesn’t see Willow later and, in the midst of the battle, Ethan regrets that, because, really, who were they kidding? Neither of them will survive this. He also regrets not kissing Rupert beyond the brief embrace they shared when they parted – Rupert harried and carrying an armful of weapons – but most of all he regrets letting Rupert drag him to this godforsaken town in the first place.

The air around the Mayor – around the thing that was the Mayor – is hot. Ethan can feel his cheek prickling with it.

Cowering as the thing issues a scraping roar, Ethan fumbles with his bag of props, pulls out a skull that he puts on the ground and hastily scribbles symbols around in chalk. His hands are shaking.

The spell – reeled off frantically – does not work. Nothing so far has worked. Abandoning the bag, hexes cast and ignored, Ethan steps around and away from the stage, staring up at the beast that sways above the school. The army of teenagers massing around it seem to be annoying it rather than causing it actual harm, though Ethan notes with some relief that the heat appears to be emanating from flamethrowers rather than, as he had assumed, the hellmouth waking up.

There is another ghastly roar and, further back in the crowd, screams erupt as the vampires surge forward.

Ethan wants to run. But run where? Any movement could draw its attention. Besides, what would Rupert think? Instead, Ethan finds himself drawing the knife Rupert insisted on giving him from his pocket, ready to join the battle.

He can’t, of course. He wants to, really he does, but his feet disagree. All he can seem to do is stare up at the towering demon, clutching the weapon so hard his hand hurts.

He is not, he realises suddenly, the only one standing apart from the mob and staring: Faith is still on stage, weaponless, ignoring the battle, looking up at the once-mayor.

Looking up, that is until a stuttering sound issues close by. Percy, the strapping lad Willow introduced to him earlier frowns down at his flamethrower and, apparently not able to get it to work, switches to…a spear? Idiot boy.

Sensing an opening, the monster sends its swinging tail the boy’s way. Ethan opens his mouth to call out a warning but before he can form the words, Faith has dived, knocking Percy away from the killing blow. Ethan could swear he hears some expression of surprise leave the monster’s – does it even have lips? – but Faith, leaping up, lifts Percy clean of the ground and swings him hard, slamming him into the students fighting around them. It injures him, certainly, and gives the impression that she means it to, but Ethan has to admit that it also gets him clear of the Mayor and doesn’t actually kill him.

Maybe Faith is aware that the act may not go down well, because she makes quite a show then of attacking the students around her, kicking, throwing punches and swinging round to –

– leap right into Buffy’s blade.

For a second, the scene seems frozen. Ethan and the demon above him both stare at Buffy who stares in pure horror at the knife she’s still holding, most of it buried in Faith’s belly. It is Faith who moves first, plucking the metal from her flesh and staggering back. “Jeez B. Watch where you’re pointing that thing.” She looks down, putting a hand to the red blossoming at the front of her dress. “Damn.”

Above them, a roar of mingled rage and despair fills the air, rattling the few remaining unbroken windows and provoking renewed screams from those still on their feet. Ethan ducks down instinctively and turns to Buffy, hoping she’ll see him and oh, say, save him rather than just stand there looking guilt-stricken.

What Buffy does, though is look from the demon baring down on her to the slayer swaying in front of her – and make a grab for the latter. Lifting Faith in her arms she glares again at the Mayor and runs. Ethan has the presence of mind to dive out the way as the monster gives chase.

*****

Waiting here with his hands on the detonator, with shouts and screams sounding so close by, is maddening. Giles’ thoughts keep returning to Ethan, so unprepared when it comes to non-magical violence, and so very close to the centre of the action. And Stephen, a man not exactly in his prime and about to retire. And Buffy, his wonderful slayer, facing her greatest challenge yet. And the other children. Those screams could be any one of them dying. And instead of running to help, he has to sit here, ready to –

– There is a crash, and Buffy bursts through the library window, cradling another youth in her arms. “Now!” she yells and Giles presses down on the detonator. Buffy skids to a crouch beside him as the blast seems to rip open the very sky, sending heat and shreds of debris rolling over them.

It is a couple of seconds of instinctively shielding his head before Giles can spare a thought for the clearly injured girl Buffy has been shielding. When the combustion subsides and cheering is audible in the distance, Giles pulls off his jacket to stem the blood loss, noticing who the girl is as he does. “Good Lord!”

“Yeah” says Buffy quietly. She gently uncurls Faith’s hands from her arms – the girl is clutching at her – and eases her back, strokes her hair. Faith stares at the flames and smoke that mark where the library was a moment before. She is panting, eyes wide in a way that calls to mind a wounded tiger or a vampire starved and cornered. She is wearing, of all things, a floral shirt dress.

“Call an ambulance” says Buffy.

*****

Ambulances are soon swarming the place, and Giles reluctantly lets Buffy go with Faith in one. It makes sense really, as only one extra person can accompany the patient and Buffy is the only one who has hope of restraining Faith if need be, but Giles isn’t happy about leaving them alone together. Wesley is also wheeled away groaning dramatically and Giles lets him know Faith’s whereabouts before setting off to find Ethan.

Who will be alive, of course. Giles doesn’t allow himself to consider the alternative.

Thankfully, he finds him quickly, wandering near the shards that mark where the podium was. Ethan looks suspiciously unscathed. Hugging him, Giles asks, “Ethan, you didn’t use magic to fix your clothing, did you?”

“Would I do that?” his lover responds in a tone that is both denial and confirmation.

“Yes” replies Giles as they break apart.

“Well you’ll be pleased to know I also protected some innocent citizens with those spray-painted symbols.” Ethan wraps an arm around him. “The rest of the spells did bugger all.”

“Yes, I suppose it was too much to hope for that an ascension could be countered magically. But it was brave of you to try.”

“Not really, it was your idea. I just didn’t want you thinking I’m quite so much of a coward as I probably am really.”

Giles tries not to flinch at that. Mercifully, he notices a few charred scrolls amid the rubble and, the distraction welcome, he detaches himself from Ethan and bends to examine them.

Ethan, slipping his hands into his pockets, adds, “Well at least I tried to help. I feel all clean and virtuous now.”

“So you should” Giles matches his fiancé’s tone but wonders if Ethan is really as casual about the fleeing people his magic couldn’t protect as he seems. In a way, he wants him to be, for his partner’s peace of mind and in another way, what would it say about Ethan if he was? “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Completely. You?”

“Yes. And the children?”

Ethan’s smile wavers. “I’ve seen all of them but Buffy” he admits.

“She’s fine – went off in an ambulance with Faith.”

“Oh good. Rupert, what are you looking for?”

“For this” Giles stands, tucking Buffy’s diploma into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Now come on; we’d better meet Buffy at the hospital.”

*****

All Buffy’s friends and a bandaged Wesley have joined them in the hospital waiting room by the time the doctor comes out with news of Faith: “No major organs damaged but she lost a lot of blood. Are any of you family?”

“Me” answers Buffy, before Wesley can speak. “And Giles”

“This way then.” The doctor leads them down a magnolia hallway and into a small, windowless room.

In it, Faith is propped up in bed, passive beneath a pink blanket. A final blood transfusion is still underway, a gaudy bag suspended to one side and linked to a tube that disappears under a plaster at her wrist. Buffy greets the rogue slayer with, “Hey”

Faith glances up. “Hey”

Buffy gestures to the one plastic chair by the bed. “Can I sit down?”

Faith shrugs, then winces. Buffy sits. Pretending to study the information pinned beside the bed, Giles lets them sit quietly, ready to intervene if need be, though Gods know what he’d do if they started fighting.

Buffy has no intention of that. She asks, “How’re you feeling?”

Another shrug, more defiant this time. “Like I got stabbed.”

“I didn’t mean to do that” Buffy tells her. “You came out of nowhere.”

“Sounds familiar.” Faith laughs, a forced, fragile and slightly alarming sound.

“Yeah” Buffy nods.

A few moments pass, carefully measured by a clock that ticks hollowly somewhere out of sight. After a while, Faith says, “He didn’t blame me. Even though I’d killed his buddy, he never blamed me. Everyone else was all…”

“All actually wanting you to face up to it?” Buffy asks, but she takes Faith’s hand.

Faith asks, “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Yeah” says Buffy. “Very dead.”

“You blew him up?”

“Yeah.”

Faith nods. Her small frown gives nothing away until she says, “I really screwed up, didn’t I? Like, royally fucked things over.”

“Faith –” Buffy begins, but the moment is interrupted by Wesley, who opens the door without knocking and addresses Faith without preamble: “Are you well enough to move? The Council are sending a team to meet us in the desert.”

Buffy answers, “Does she look well enough to move?”

Wesley looks a little guilty, but comes into the room fully, pulling a wheelchair with him. “I’m sure we can borrow this if need be.”

Faith simply regards him. Buffy, meanwhile, is livid. “What’s in the desert? What are you going to do, shoot her and hide the evidence?”

“He’s taking her to England” Giles realises. “Aren’t you?”

“I’m staying here with Buffy” Wesley clarifies. “Faith will be escorted by a team.”

“A team of what?” demands Buffy. “Assassins? Jailors?”

Wesley draws himself up to full height. “Under the circumstances, would jailors be a bad idea?”

Buffy shakes her head, anger visibly mounting. “Do I need to remind you what happened last time you tried to kidnap her?”

“This is different” Wesley’s voice raises just slightly, in competition. “This time Faith will come willingly. Won’t you, Faith?”

Faith stares at him. “I guess.” To Buffy she adds, “Well, what’re my options here? Prison? I’ll pass, thanks.”

“At least before prison you get a fair trial” Buffy tells her. She turns to Giles. “What’ll she get in England?”

“A tribunal” Giles supposes. He looks to Wesley for confirmation and the man nods and adds, “The Council will see that suitable punishment is issued and a process of rehabilitation begins.”

“Rehabilitation?” Buffy repeats. “Try brain washing! And how do we know she’ll ever leave wherever they dump her?” She turns her back on the two men and addresses Faith: “Remember the cruciamentum? You don’t have to go with him.”

Glancing from her to Wesley, Faith is silent.

“You don’t get a say in this, Buffy” Wesley tells her. “And nor does Faith. Unless she comes quietly, the Council will see that other measures are enacted.”

Giles can’t help a bitter smile. “Because that worked out so well last time!”

Wesley glares. “We’ll be better prepared this time.” To Faith, he adds, “I’m sorry to say the Council can make things extremely difficult for you if you try to evade capture. You could end up a wanted criminal in every country on earth and there are military and mystical means of capture if all else fails.”

Faith’s gaze flickers to Giles. He confirms Wesley’s words with a brief nod.

“Look” Buffy tries. “I’m not about to have a Yay Faith parade but you can’t just deport her in the middle of the night while she’s injured and lock her up somewhere and do God knows what to her with no-one except you knowing where she is! Don’t you realise how twisted that is?”

“The Council’s orders are –”

“No” Buffy cuts him off. “I’m through with orders. I’m through with your council treating us like pieces on a chessboard.” She folds her arms. “I quit.”

Wesley stares at her in frank astonishment. “The slayer can’t quit. The world needs –”

“I didn’t say I quit slaying. I’m quitting the Council and quitting taking orders from them. I’ve had nothing but grief from any of you people except Giles and even he’s not one of you anymore.”

Wesley turns to Giles. “Talk to her.”

Giles allows himself another smile. He replies, “I’ve nothing to add. Buffy said it all.”

Wesley wilts, but, turning back to Buffy he manages, “You have a duty to obey the Council. We have the resources to –”

“To what? Steal my powers? To get in my way? And now you want to take Faith? Like I said, I quit. When a new slayer comes along, she can do what she wants, but until then, they can go play croquet or something.” She looks at Giles. “Croquet’s a thing, right?”

Giles nods. Behind Buffy, Faith is watching all this expressionlessly, but she is more alert than she has seemed so far. “Damn B” she mutters. “And here I thought I was the rebel.”

Wesley stares coldly at Buffy. “This is mutiny.”

Buffy frowns. “I prefer to think of it as graduation.” She turns to her sister-slayer. “Faith, you with me?”

Faith slowly sits up and, leaning awkwardly to the side, wraps Buffy in a one-armed hug. Giles doesn’t miss the way Buffy tenses but he suspects Wesley does. Without speaking, Faith releases Buffy and reaches for the almost empty bag of blood at her bedside, lifts it from its stand. Buffy stares at her but Faith doesn’t meet her gaze. Gripping the blood carefully in one hand she shifts herself to the edge of the bed and stares at Wesley until he cottons on to what’s happening.

“Oh!” He wheels the chair over and helps her into it. Buffy finally shakes off shock to say, “Faith, wait –”

“Sorry B” Faith offers her a sad smile. “I think I’ll take what the tweed brigade’s got over jail. Probably more fun.” Her smile widens to a tired grin. “Hey, don’t worry about me. Good luck in college. Get wasted for me, will ya?” And then Wesley wheels her out the room and away.

Buffy steps forward to go after them, and Giles catches her arm. “Buffy, it’s her choice.”

“Yeah, which she’s making right after major trauma! That I inflicted.” Buffy turns to him. “Giles, we can’t let them take her.”

“No, we can’t” Giles agrees patiently. “But she can.”

“And, what, you think they’ll just make her all sunshiny again and let her go?” 

“I’m hardly about to let her go and never see her again. I still have contacts in the Council; they’ll keep us informed.” Seeing that Buffy is still unconvinced, he adds, “She does have a point, Buffy; what’s the alternative? A prison couldn’t hold her and a prison sentence would likely be lengthier than what the Council have in mind. They do prefer for slayers to be in the field.”

Buffy relaxes just a fraction. “So they’ll let her go soon?”

“As soon as they deem her ready” Giles reassures her, hoping it is true.

Buffy says, “I guess you went back. They helped you, right?”

“They did.” Giles doesn’t mention that as a future watcher rather than a slayer or potential, his place in the organisation was very different, that he was an heir to their traditions rather than an instrument. After all, he can see no other choice. Faith in prison is a danger to the guards and the other prisoners, and no-one there would be able to help her because none of them would know the realities of her life. So far as Giles can tell, Faith has only truly trusted one person in her life besides the Mayor: her first watcher. The Council might yet be the best of a bad lot when it comes to helping the girl.

Besides which, Wesley is not wrong: the Council do have it within their power to bring legislative and mystical power down on Faith, to have her arrested wherever she runs, to bind her with magic, to send teams of trained killers after her. Better she goes willingly, showing them the best of her so that they show her the best of them.

And she did go willingly. And that isn’t something Giles is prepared to take away from her. He says, “It’s for the best, Buffy.”

“Right” she sounds not reassured, but resigned. Suddenly, she asks, “I just quit the council didn’t I?”

“You did” Giles confirms. “But I’m sure Wesley will accept you back if you…” He trails off at the look she’s giving him. “No. Well, err. Shall I drive you home?”

*****

“Well” says Ethan a few hours later, “at least she can tell Joyce Faith’s still alive. Just not where she is.” He smiles at Giles, looking deceptively harmless in his dressing gown, with his hair fluffy from the shower.

“We’ll know where she is soon enough.” Giles sits down heavily beside his partner on the sofa, a glass of scotch in hand. He adds, “Wherever she is, she’ll be with Wesley; I heard from him just now and he’s all set to return to the UK himself. With Buffy quitting the Council, Faith’s his only slayer.”

“Yes” Ethan muses. “Tell Buffy bravo from me, would you?”

“You can tell her yourself. I’m sure she’ll be around in summer.”

“Not going to her dad’s again?”

“Apparently not” Giles frowns as he lifts his glass with a somewhat papery rustle, then sets it on the coffee table and extracts a charred scroll from his pocket. “Blast. I meant to give this to Buffy. I’ll have to go over tomorrow.”

“What is it?” Ethan frowns, then seeing the diploma, shakes his head at it. “The exam board could have just printed her a new one, you know.”

“I just thought it would be a nice gesture. She certainly has earnt it.”

“I suppose so.”

“Yes. That school was hell for her, even without the pun.”

Ethan shrugs. “School always is.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have a tendency to be daunted by longer fics, I thought I should make this one part of a series in order to break it up a bit. So season 4 will be in a new fic...just as soon as I write it.


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